


Just The Game We're In

by Ortega



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2018-12-15 16:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 69,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11810142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ortega/pseuds/Ortega
Summary: Willam is a senior political advisor to the government’s Minister for Social Affairs and Citizenship, Sharon Needles. Throw in a crush on co-worker Courtney, Sharon acting weird around Willam’s colleague Alaska, an incompetent press department headed by Actual Living Zombie Jinkx Monsoon, and Willam’s job couldn’t get much more stressful. No wonder spin doctor Bianca Del Rio is permanently at the end of her tether…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh hello A03! This is my first post on this website so I really hope I've done everything correctly. This is the first chapter of a The Thick Of It/Political AU originally posted on ArtificialQueens on tumblr. It started as part of a fic challenge and kind of grew from there! It's still in progress but I'd love to gain some feedback from a different audience so comments are very welcome. Also if you want to hit me up on tumblr my username there is artificialortega! Hope you all enjoy :)

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack. The definitive sound of Willam’s job. Day in, day out the sound would echo through the offices, closely followed by constantly ringing phones and the tap-tap-tap of keyboards. Often there was also shouting, the volume of which was never helped by the design of the building which allowed every whisper to be amplified by around a million decibels and broadcast into the lobby. 

Willam hated the new building. She’d hated the idea of moving into it, insisting it would reflect badly on their party and cost them in the polls.

“What kind of message is it going to send out?” she’d rolled her eyes, tearing her hands through her hair. “Hey public, we’re still the party of the working people, we’re in touch with you all and really understand your fears of another recession- that’s why we’re moving into a massive, new, glass, diamond-shaped, gleaming clit piercing of a building!”

She had been ignored, of course, as the decision had already been made. Willam often wondered what the point of being a political advisor was if nobody ever actually listened to your advice, especially since the person you were supposed to be giving advice to seemed to be blundering about the world of politics like a headless chicken. Darienne Lake had been head of the Department for Social Affairs and Citizenship (Dosac for short or Ballsack if, like Willam, you hated working there) for quite some time now. Too long, Willam thought. It was harrowing working for a woman who was clearly in the wrong profession, watching her get slammed by the media almost daily as a result of the latest crackpot policy she’d dreamed up. Willam could’ve left the department a long time ago, should’ve left a long time ago. But she didn’t.

This job was all about climbing the ladder and making connections. It was a game of chess, and over the years Willam had seen many people make the wrong move both in and out of the public eye and subsequently watched them get disposed of. She’d seen people cross to the other side, watched both her own party and the opposition divide and conquer. It was all extremely black and white. The party line was a tightrope you had to walk. If you step out of line, you fall off the tightrope. If you aren’t up to date on what the line is, the tightrope gets cut. 

Willam could appreciate it wouldn’t sound hugely appealing to someone who didn’t live, breathe, eat, sleep and shit politics. However, this was her world. It had been her world since she was little, and her need to be within the political realm only intensified when she left school and went to uni to study politics and economics, her drive and determination ensuring she graduated with a first class degree. Something that never got old to Willam was people’s reactions when they discovered she wasn’t some dyed blonde lobotomy job who’d slept her way up the ladder. She wanted to keep giving people that shock day after day, and if that meant staying and advising an under-qualified, over-privileged cabinet minister, then she could grit her teeth and bear it.

With several more click-clacks accompanying her, Willam briskly made her way across the black tiles of the department building and pressed one pink nail to the button of the lift, the doors sliding open almost instantly. As she stepped inside, quickly checking her reflection in the mirror, there was the frenzied sound of heels on tiles and a panicked yelling.

“Hold the lift!”

Smiling to herself, Willam held the doors open as a tall, skinny blonde girl flew through the doors. Catching her breath and smoothing down her black pencil skirt, she shot her friend a quick smile.

“Morning, dickface!”

“Morning, cuntbag. Great timing,” Willam smirked as her friend fixed her windswept hair in the mirror.

If you’d ever asked Willam if she could’ve seen herself becoming best friends with a previous member of the opposition she would have laughed in your face, but Alaska was an exception. She had crossed the floor three months ago, finding a job as one of Darienne’s junior policy advisors after she became disillusioned with the ruthless ideals of the opposition. From what Willam had heard, the offices of Phi-Phi O’Hara’s party had been horrifically cliquey and Alaska had wanted to spread her wings. Understandably, Willam had been suspicious of her at first but Alaska had been persistently kind and sweet to her to the point where Willam basically blinked and they were close friends as well as colleagues.

“What’s on Miss Lake’s agenda today then?” Willam laughed, leaning against the lift’s cool metal wall. “Are we demanding the extension of all buses by 30 centimetres? Making a ten pound coin? Outlawing children?”

Alaska threw her head back and laughed. “No, no. We’ve to sort the public transport data before 5pm. That’s the only real pressing thing we have to do today.”

Willam felt uneasy. The prospect of 24 hours that didn’t seem like being strapped to a bullet train speeding through fire seemed too good to be true. Something was always going wrong at Dosac and the fact that the only important thing they had to do with their day was to type some figures into an excel spreadsheet was suspicious.

“How was your weekend anyway?” Alaska asked, smiling kindly.

Willam thought back to the previous two days which were spent holed up in her studio flat eating instant noodles and working her way through expenses forms which the minister should have been doing herself.

“You know…same old, same old,” she gave a wry smile, which Alaska returned.

The elevator doors opened and Willam and Alaska made their way to their desks. They were stopped in their tracks by a small, panicked Australian girl, babbling away at them at about a mile a minute. Smirking, Willam shared an affectionate glance with Alaska.

“And a great big good morning to you too, my tiny, panic-ridden koala,” Willam smiled, lazily throwing her jacket over her desk as the little blonde rolled her eyes.

“You guys! This is serious stuff. It would help if you actually made it into work on time,” she snapped back, pacing back and forth in her heels in worry.

“Chill, Courtney. We were like one minute off being bang on time, Darienne’s not going to be in for another fifteen minutes,” Alaska smiled lazily, kicking her heels off as she lounged in the wheely chair behind her desk. “Anyway, what’s the panic? It’s a stress-free day.”

There was one second of almost-silence as the clicks of computer mouses and the whirr of monitors were the only sounds in the room. Then, Courtney’s eyes widened in horror. Willam’s stomach dropped as she met Alaska’s eyes- she’d known the prospect of a quiet day had been a veritable pipe dream.

“A stress-free…did you guys not get the briefing that Jinkx sent out? Oh Christ, why am I even asking that.”

“Are my ears burning?” came a sleepy voice from down the hall. A figure emerged bundled up in countless scarves and woollen cardigans, her red curls only just visible through the layers of clothing. Her red-painted fingernails were curled round a Starbucks cup, which she was clinging to for dear life.

“Just from the fiery flames of hell that make up your hair,” Willam curled her lip dryly.

“Ignore her, Jinkx. She hasn’t had her morning shot of Sambuca yet,” Alaska drawled, smiling at the human game of pass the parcel who was currently detangling herself from her mummification of knitted clothing. Jinkx was Dosac’s press secretary who was a notorious slacker and whose determination started and ended at getting home in time for EastEnders every day. She vexed Willam no end as it was often absolutely impossible to get any information from her or through her, but begrudgingly Willam had to admit she did make a good cup of tea.

“Jinkx. Is there a reason why these two haven’t been briefed on Darienne’s interview with Raja Gemini today?” asked Courtney.

Willam threw her head back and groaned. Oh, fuck. This was bad news. Raja was one of the fiercest bitches in the media, an ITV journalist who was almost impossible to influence with spin. Fixing Jinkx with a stony glare, she was irritated even more when she simply shrugged.

“Courtney, that email was sent to me at four minutes past five yesterday evening, and you know fine well that the moment it hits five o’clock I’m out of the office like a loaded gun and my work phone is very firmly off,” Jinkx raised her eyebrows, curling her Bluetooth headset round her ear as she logged into her computer.

“Jesus Christ. So the minister has a fucking Gemini interview and we’ve got no idea what it’s meant to be covering,” Willam massaged her temples slowly.

“Well, I’ll tell you what it’s covering. She’s running with the mobile phone policy,” Courtney sighed, nodding fiercely as both Willam and Alaska cried out in disbelief.

“Absolutely not. I thought we’d convinced her that it was a non-starter?!” Alaska exclaimed, her voice slightly less lethargic than usual.

“Apparently she’s feeling the pressure of the opposition as a result of Phi-Phi pushing to cut down on Co2 emissions, so she wants to bring out a policy that goes hand in hand with that so the government can look good.”

“That doesn’t even make any fucking sense! God, Phi-Phi could sneeze and she’d be ‘feeling the pressure’. Sometimes it’s like this department’s being run by a startled cat,” Alaska sighed, pushing her long, blonde hair away from her face with her hand.

“Yeah, I always think that watching her decision-making process is like watching an enormous baby trying to do calculus,” Willam piped up, humour masking the genuine, real fear that this disastrous policy was about to go live. Its basic premise was to fine people who used their phones while they walked, to avoid collisions between pedestrians on the streets and therefore reduce waiting times at Accident and Emergency. It was absolutely insane, but then this was a typical Darienne Lake policy. Courtney had once told Willam that she often genuinely wondered if someone was sneaking cocaine into Darienne’s pasta salads.

Obviously suffering from a rare pang of guilt, Courtney sighed as she leant against Alaska’s desk. “I don’t know. This policy aside, I think sometimes this party’s way too harsh on her. And the press.”

“Can you blame them?!” Willam snorted derisively. “It sucks, but if you’re a woman in politics and you go out in dresses that look like someone put stick-on diamantes onto a burlap sack whilst having a seizure, of course Hello magazine are going to have a field day.”

“Come on, Willam. You have to admit that ultimately, she’s a very nice woman,” Courtney shook her head, laughing only slightly.

“So you’re going to follow her when she eventually goes?” Jinkx piped up from behind her monitor, her eyebrows raised high into her red curls. Courtney bit her lip.

“…well. I do still want some form of political career.”

The three girls laughed as Courtney blushed pink. That was where Courtney’s loyalty ended when it came to the minister. When Darienne had entered the job last year it had also meant the arrival of Courtney, Darienne’s senior advisor. It quickly became clear to Willam that Courtney had got to where she was by telling people what they wanted to hear, smiling and nodding at every turn as Darienne drove the department into one dead end after another. Willam admired Courtney’s craftiness; her method of going along with whatever Darienne wanted meant that whenever the time came to blame someone, Darienne never looked her way. Of course, Courtney secretly hated basically every idea that Darienne had, and quickly grew to trust Willam (and eventually Alaska, when she joined the party) as somebody she could share her true feelings with. Over her time as part of Dosac, the three girls had become great friends, forming a sort of secret alliance of common sense against Darienne’s crazy politics. In this respect Courtney was great, however she was still quite new to the political world and a lot of the time Willam had to help her through the day.

She was still amazing, though. At her job. 

“Face it Court,” Alaska smiled sleepily under hooded eyelids as Willam shook herself out of her daydream. “Everyone’s running from Darienne like…ugh, I’m crap at one-liners at this time of the morning. Willam, help me out?”

“Like she runs from Weight Watchers? Like obesity runs in her family? Like McDonald’s employees run whenever she steps foot in the building? Come on, Lask, that one was easy.”

“Guys, please!” Courtney chastised her friends, shaking her head. Alaska stretched sleepily in her chair.

“All I’m saying is that Darienne Lake is sinking like the Titanic, if the Titanic was on fire and made entirely of burning shit, and we’re going to be playing the violins if we don’t start distancing ourselves from her as soon as we can,” she yawned.

“Does shit even float?” pondered Willam as she chewed a pen.

“That’s not really the point here,” Alaska smirked.

“Look, I’m not fussed about burlap sacks, or burning shit, or spitroasting or whatnot, I just think she’s bound to notice if we start making like we’re about to jump ship!” Courtney cried, flustered.

Alaska and Willam shared a concerned look.

“I didn’t say anything about spitroasting. Do you even know what spitroasting is?” Willam laughed uproariously. Alaska and Jinkx giggled as Courtney shot Willam a displeased glare.

“No. I’ve heard it’s unpleasant,” she sniffed, scrolling through her phone nonchalantly as the girls burst out laughing. As the laughter died down, Jinkx sighed from her desk.

“Even if she does notice, it won’t be an issue. I hear Bianca’s sorting her departure.”

The three blonde girls gave Jinkx equally shocked glances, their jaws slack at this bomb of information coming from someone who was usually so little help.

“You…heard something? You have working ears? You have a working set of five senses?” Willam finally gasped, gobsmacked but also a little excited at the prospect of getting someone competent in to run the department.

“It’s not that much of a shock, thank you very much! Trannika over at Richmond Terrace told me at our last meeting.”

All at once, Willam deflated in her seat. “Right, so what you really mean is…a senior press officer for the opposition told you that Bianca was planning to get rid of the current minister, knowing that you would tell our lot- Christ, more like hoping on a wing and a prayer- making sure that Darienne would become rattled so that Phi-Phi would be able to capitalize on the fact that she’d be acting more like a bat on Ritalin than normal.”

Seeing Jinkx’s peeved expression, Alaska piped up. “I’m sure there’s some element of truth in it, Willam. I mean, Trannika’s not exactly party loyal, she’s just a standard civil servant.”

Willam had to smirk at Alaska’s defensiveness when it came to Jinkx. When Alaska started at the department, there seemed to be a sort of stigma around her and the fact she’d crossed the floor. Looking back, Willam realises that part of that probably had something to do with vicious rumours started by her and Courtney’s opposite numbers, Detox and Roxxxy, and circulated by Bob, who was the opposition’s equivalent of Jinkx (but far more hardworking). The opposition hadn’t been happy at losing Alaska as she was a quick thinker, rapid at making decisions and good at getting the party out of a tight spot, which Phi-Phi often steered them into. As a result of this, Alaska had been subject to a lot of suspicion from almost everyone apart from Jinkx, and the rest of the comms team. Being a permanent employee of the civil service, Jinkx had very little loyalty to the party as she knew that she’d be safe in her job no matter how many cabinet ministers came and went. As a result, she’d been Alaska’s only friend for her first few weeks in the job and so, no matter how incompetent Jinkx could be, Alaska would always defend her to the end.

“Well, if what Jinkx is saying is a fact-”

“Hey, I’m not Beedle the fucking Bard!” Jinkx cut in, resembling a meerkat as her head popped over the top of her monitor.

“- then maybe we should start distancing ourselves,” Willam finished, shooting Jinkx an irked look, irritated at having been interrupted. She noticed that Courtney was giving her a sort of jittery, panicked glance.

“How do we…? I mean, how would we go about doing that?” she stammered, clearly becoming nervous at the prospect of a minor coup. Willam laughed. These were the situations where Courtney’s inexperience showed and although it was sometimes tedious having to hold her hand through such conditions, Willam thought her little, panicked face always looked so cute.

From a completely objective point of view, of course.

Noticing Willam’s slight distraction, Alaska spoke up instead.

“Don’t have a fit, Court, it’ll be fine. Bianca will have it taken care of,” she smiled, trying her best to reassure her friend. Casting her eye to the clock, Alaska narrowed her eyes. “You should probably head downstairs and meet the minister. Her car’s going to be pulling up in, like, a minute.”

Cursing, Courtney trotted towards the lifts as fast as her high heels could carry her. Willam watched as she left, then exhaled loudly as she switched her computer on. Trying her best to relax, she cast her eye over the office. Apart from one glass-fronted room at the far end which belonged to Darienne, the majority of it was open plan. It was mostly filled with identical IKEA desks which were all the same shade of creamy grey and topped with piles and piles of work. Willam’s desk was messy with post-it notes plastered all round the screen of her monitor, encroaching on top of the piles of folders and ringbinders like some kind of horrific, neon disease. Alaska’s desk seemed to be a sort of middle ground- most things were ordered but her inbox definitely had a bigger pile of paper than her outbox, and lever arch files lay open indicating work that was started but never finished. On the other hand, Courtney’s desk was like a beacon of order and tidiness in the hectic office. Everything had its place, her folders were all stored neatly and were colour-coded, and a packet of disinfectant wipes sat just beside the screen of her monitor. Their desks represented the three advisors quite well, Willam thought.

Over to her left beside the lifts sat the cluster of desks which housed the communications team. Jinkx sat at its helm, situated near the desks of the advisors. To the right of Jinkx’s desk sat the two senior press officers, Katya and Trixie, and to Jinkx’s left were the two junior press officers, Violet (who Willam often thought to be far more competent than Jinkx and often prayed the two would somehow find themselves in some form of Freaky Friday body swap) and Adore, whose chair was empty. Willam rolled her eyes hard- Adore had started as a civil service intern and Darienne had ended up keeping her on permanently. It had been another of her diabolical decisions as Adore was very rarely on time, had a pile of incomplete work the size of Kilimanjaro on her desk, and devoted around 90% of her day to making cups of coffee. As a friend, she was great fun and brought a certain element of life to the office when everyone was down, but as someone Willam had to work with she was a challenge. There had been many times where Willam had fleetingly thought of pushing over the pile of folders on her desk one day and killing her, doing the department a great service.

Before Willam could even open her emails, Darienne was marching through the department with Courtney following behind her holding two large, red briefcases.

“Morning, morning!” she sing-songed as she made her way into her office. “Meeting in ten, yes ladies?”

“You’re the boss,” Willam shrugged, scrolling through her emails with disinterest. As she watched Darienne swing her office door shut, she added, “…for now.”

There was suddenly a flurry of activity as the sound of approaching footsteps thundered along the corridor. Soon enough, a small girl with blue eyes, full lips and blonde hair with dark roots appeared and flung herself down into the empty desk beside Violet. Getting herself comfy, she kicked her heeled boots off and fired up her computer. Adore had arrived.

“Christ, is nobody able to arrive on time in this department?!” Courtney hissed, exasperated and trying desperately to mask the fact that Adore had only just arrived. Chewing on a piece of gum, Adore shot her a slack-jawed smile as the other press officers looked up from their work.

“Hey, I was working thank you very much! I was doing important party business before I arrived.”

“What kind of important party business?” asked Katya, her interest piqued at the thought of Adore voluntarily doing any work.

“Laila McQueen,” Adore beamed, chewing loudly on her gum. Willam laughed as Alaska rolled her eyes so hard they threatened to fall out their sockets. “Hey, it just means we have the Independent on our side for the next couple of days!”

“Good work, chick. You’re like a broadsheet Julia Roberts. I didn’t know Bianca had started pimping people out,” Trixie shot Adore a sarcastic grin and received a tight-lipped smile and one middle finger in response. Katya went into hysterics, laughing so hard that no sound came out and flailing her arms around uncontrollably. 

“Okay, very good. Your one minute of glory is up, Adore. Could you go and get us some teas, please? Remember the soy milk for me and lacto-free for Willam. We’ve got enough shit flying around the office as it is. And maybe some pastries, Darienne will probably be hungry,” Courtney ordered, Adore pouting and lazily rising from her desk.

“Probably? It’s not like there’s an element of doubt to it,” Willam snorted a laugh. “Get her a cinnamon roll the size of a fucking Swiss cheese, that should do her fine.”

Five minutes later, Willam found herself sipping a sub-par cup of tea in Darienne’s office, craving the sweet embrace of death as she listened to her witter on about how Raja Gemini wasn’t that intimidating, and that contrary to popular belief she was able to hold her own against the big journalists. Alaska was attempting to talk her down from the ledge of misplaced confidence Darienne had seemed to have clambered up to, Courtney was doing her best impersonation of a nodding dog, and Jinkx was sleepily casting her eyes between Darienne and Alaska as they spoke, her notebook blank.

“Do you have a strong opening line?” Alaska asked the minister nervously, prodding at her lip with her long, white acrylic nails. Darienne smiled smugly, leaning back and relaxing in her chair.

“Once we implement these fines, the waiting times at A&E will be shorter than the waiting times at McDonalds. Ambulances will practically start operating drive thrus!” she reeled off, grinning proudly at the line she’d clearly spent hours thinking up. Stifling laughter, Willam watched the reactions of the other girls. Jinkx’s pen hovered above her notebook hesitantly as if she couldn’t quite believe she had to write that drivel down, and Courtney and Alaska were staring at each other, wide-eyed with incredulity.

“Jesus. I’ve seen stronger fucking newborn children,” Willam sighed as she leant forward and sat her cup of tea on Darienne’s desk, too disgusted to attempt to drink it anymore. “That cup of tea was stronger than that opening fucking line.”

“Hey! I spent all night thinking that up,” Darienne cried, offended. Alaska furrowed her brow.

“I could pull a better opening line out of my anus.”

“Speaking of anuses, Bianca’s in the building,” Jinkx spoke up, checking her phone. The mood in the room suddenly plummeted.

Everyone was afraid of Bianca. The only separating factor was just how afraid they were of Bianca. She was the prime minister’s enforcer and spin doctor, the lady who made it clear to everyone in government that they had to know the line and toe the line, often spinning the party out of crises like a terrifying dreidel. She had no time for time wasters, bluffers, blue-sky thinkers, or people who weren’t one hundred percent capable of doing their job, and often unleashed hell on those that weren’t. Willam was a big girl, she could handle herself, but there was still something about the authority that Bianca radiated and how intimidating she was that made her just that little bit nervous. If she fixed her huge, white-rimmed eyes on her, it gave the impression that she was being stared out by a coked-up snowy owl.

“Is she looking for us?” Courtney stammered, instantly panicking.

“No, I imagine she’s just playing Pokémon Go and she got wind of a Dratini in Darienne’s office. What do you think?!” Jinkx hissed back, glaring momentarily at Courtney then back to her phone. “5…4…3…2…”

“Good morning, Bianca,” Alaska drawled as a tall, caramel-haired woman click-clacked into the room on six-inch heels. Every aspect of her outfit was perfect- pressed suit jacket, neatly ironed shirt, navy pencil skirt with no creases whatsoever. Huge black lashes framed her blue eyes and her sneering lips were painted with red lipstick. Or perhaps that was just the blood of another poor cabinet minister.

“Yes good morning, and I’m hoping it’s going to be a good fucking morning, because this one-” she trained a single black fake nail on Darienne’s face “-is fully prepped for her Gemini interview at 12, correct?”

“Don’t worry Bianca, I was up all night,” Darienne gave her a saccharine sweet smile, which Bianca turned her nose up at.

“So you’re fully aware she thinks it’s an utterly fucking horrible idea?” Bianca tilted her head very slightly.

“She’s not the only one,” Alaska muttered, just loud enough for Willam to hear.

Darienne looked somewhat put out, her face falling. Sighing, Willam looked to the ceiling. Court was right- the minister was a nice lady, but how in the hell could she think that policy was anything less than an utter car crash?! Willam began to allow herself to daydream, which admittedly was always a risk in Bianca’s presence, but already this day was like a huge, massive wave towering over them all before a tsunami and she needed to disconnect. She was aware of Bianca’s voice tearing into Darienne in the background.

“What if she asks you how many police hours this will take up? What are you going to say then?”

“I would simply point her to the amount of money that this policy would generate, which would well make up for the drain on resources-”

“Jesus H Fuck, who did your media training? Katie Hopkins? Don’t use the word ‘drain’! Don’t use any words with any negative connotations whatsoever! I don’t want a single word out of place in this interview; otherwise Gemini is going to start analysing it like Gillian McKeith analyses the faeces of fat people.”

Darienne appeared to think things over for a moment. “Can I…can I use the word no?”

Willam only just stopped herself from physically slapping her hand to her forehead. Bianca looked incredulously at the faces of the four other girls, each as long-suffering as the last.

“Have I suddenly imagined a storybook character into life? Did a child make a wish on a shooting star last night, is that why fucking Moon-Face is sitting at a desk in front of me? Are the other Faraway Tree friends about to walk in through the door and start running the country? Is the next reshuffle being organised by Enid fucking Blyton?”

Darienne cast her eyes to the floor, the message well and truly received.

“You mentioned the amount of money that this would generate. Is this going to be the saving grace of this policy? Is this going to be the diamond ring within the shit of the dog who accidentally ate it?”

“You’re very faecally focussed today, Bianca,” Alaska piped up as Willam stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, well. It’s hard not to be when you’re within a 5 mile radius of this department,” she scoffed.

“Well within the first month, we’re looking to generate around…um, Courtney?” Darienne cast her eyes to the senior advisor, whose gaze shifted to Bianca nervously. 

“Unbelievable. She can’t even retain her own fucking figures. Come on then, Britain’s number fifteen Kylie Minogue impersonator, give me some good fucking news.”

“Um, we think…well, Darienne thinks…that within the first month of enforcement we could generate around £25,000 in £50 fines.”

Bianca’s face grew very gradually cold, Courtney freezing to the spot as if she’d just been stared at by Medusa. Even Willam shivered.

“You mean to tell me,” she began, her voice extremely measured and shaking only slightly. “That out of a population of 64 million people, who normally stumble around the streets with their heads in their phone screens like puppets with their strings cut, we’d be able to fine…500 a month?”

“Well, we deliberately predicted under target so that the actual figure would come as a pleasant surprise!” Darienne smiled back, completely nonplussed at Bianca’s rage.

“If I could interject, I don’t seem to recall there being any ‘we’ about it,” Jinkx spoke up dryly, before lowering her head back down into her notebook.

“I really love the logic of this department. Maybe you should all become teachers! 50 add 50 equals 25, and when you find out that the real answer is actually 100, well that’s just a fucking pleasant surprise, isn’t it?! The crime stats from the last quarter revealed that there had been 73 murders committed, except- what a nice surprise! There were actually 78, because we forgot to count your five fucking strangulated bodies after I fucking killed you!”

Willam had no idea why Darienne was so calm. It was like her brain had been replaced by a huge goldfish bowl. Courtney, however, looked terrified, and for a moment Willam wanted to leap up from her seat and give her a massive hug, shielding her from Bianca’s fury.

Only for a moment, though.

“We have time to accumulate some more accurate figures. They wouldn’t be a hundred percent kosher, but definitely a lot more impressive than £25,000, and they’d probably placate Gemini,” Willam shrugged, sitting up a little straighter in her seat as she addressed Bianca. Casting her frown Willam’s way, Bianca seemed to calm down very slightly.

“Finally someone in this room that isn’t a massive, walking, talking sac of amniotic fluid. Get it done, right? I’ll see you all after the interview.”

As Bianca left the room, the other girls all visibly relaxed. Courtney began rubbing at her shoulder, clearly tense after being momentarily in the firing line. Flustered, Darienne finally spoke.

“Right well, Willam, if you could sort that out within the hour,” she smiled, as if she was in control in any way. “Alaska and Jinkx, if you could stay with me so that we can smooth out the finer details of this interview, and Courtney if you could get started on the transport data please.”

“No,” Courtney suddenly blurted out, clearly still slightly rattled from Bianca’s visit. Willam screwed her face up. What the fuck was she doing? Darienne looked equally perplexed as Courtney stammered a correction. “I mean…yes, of course, minister.”

As Darienne dismissed them and Willam and Courtney marched out of the office, Willam immediately grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her into the toilets.

“Willam! What the hell?!” Courtney protested, her eyes fiery.

“What was that in the office there?!”

Courtney knit her brows together. “You told us to start distancing ourselves from her!”

“Yeah, distancing yourself, not starting a fucking revolution! Am I talking to someone who works in politics or a seventeen year old who just got a D in their Modern Studies A-level?!” Willam sighed, exasperated. She regretted it immediately when she saw Courtney’s shoulders slump forward as she did her best impression of a kicked puppy. Without thinking, she stepped forward instinctively.

“I’m sorry,” Courtney muttered, shaking her head slightly. “I just…Bianca sort of panicked me.”

Willam gave her a small smile, patting her arm gently. “Look…I know it’s hard for you. I understand that you entered the game as Darienne’s aide and that if she goes, the road ahead is going to be kind of…non-existent. Well, not non-existent, just extremely winding and bumpy and parts of it might not have been built yet. But you’re party loyal, right?”

Courtney nodded silently. “I’m not a hack. I came into this job so I could help change things for people, except sometimes I just feel like we’re not doing much good.”

“Yeah, well. That’s because the PM is too balls-deep in his secretary to run the country for more than five minutes, but anyway. The point is that you’ll be okay, we’ll all be okay! You, me, Alaska. The dream team,” Willam beamed at her, her heart soaring as Courtney’s face lit up. “Just keep following whatever Darienne does, but keep your ears open. Any sign of a possible new option, Whitney Houston them.”

Courtney’s face grew confused.

“Run to them. But don’t panic, girl. Like Alaska said, Bianca’s going to sort it. You saw her in there, she’s at the end of her tether with that giant egg we’ve got behind that desk. We’ll be fine.”

As Courtney giggled, Willam found herself blushing very slightly. Stepping forward that little bit more, she wrapped her arms around Courtney in a gentle hug. She smelt of a very sweet, sugary perfume, and momentarily Willam found it hard to let go, her heart thudding in her ribcage.

“Thanks, Willam. You’re a sweetheart,” Courtney smiled bashfully as she pulled away, sweeping her hair behind her ears. Willam cast her eyes to the floor.

“Come on. We’ve got work to do. You should start doctoring those transport stats for fun.”

Pushing open the door, Courtney laughed and raised her eyebrows. “I got a C in my Modern Studies A-level anyway, so I don’t care for the accusation.”

As the two girls made their way back to their desks, Willam tried to clear her head. She didn’t have a crush on Courtney. She wasn’t attracted to her like that at all. She was just protective of her, and maybe wanted her to eventually be prime minister, and she couldn’t help it if she was cute when she was flustered, or nervous, or happy, or irritated, or doing anything. That was just a fact. It didn’t mean she liked her as anything more than a friend.

Besides, the position of workplace token lesbian couple had already been filled by Trixie and Katya.

***

Willam sighed, her disapproval hidden in the darkness of the news studio along with cameras, a teleprompter, and Courtney. Why in the name of God was this interview live? It was barbaric to screen a brutal murder on lunchtime TV. Christ, there could be kids watching. Casting her eyes to the ceiling, she knew that Jinkx could have helped the situation. She could’ve pushed for it to be pre-recorded. But in her head she was already hearing the excuse about Raven at ITV being “such a nice girl”, and that “she complimented my outfit once at Alyssa’s book launch”, so perhaps there was never any chance of it being anything but live.

As the minister stammered and stuttered her way through her lines, Willam wondered how Raja was able to keep such a stony, cold expression. She was essentially watching the complete breakdown of Darienne’s political credibility in front of her, that was surely worth some pity. Contemplating the situation, Willam supposed that having pity wasn’t really going to do a journalist any favours. Raja had been out at Gaza, for fuck’s sake. She was hardly going to be sympathetic to this human panacotta sat in front of her, Darienne’s voice wobbling and wavering over every line she spoke as Raja’s eyes bore into her.

Willam looked briefly to Courtney, who was just looking at Darienne sadly. Willam had to feel sorry for her. Courtney had placed her trust in the minister to introduce her to the world of politics, a world she clearly wanted to be a part of for all the right reasons, and yet this was the thanks she got, sitting having to watch her boss pedal horrific policy after horrific policy and watching as her and her colleagues got constantly ignored.

She deserved better.

Momentarily Willam thought about making a joke, but reasoned that it would probably go down as well as a lead balloon. Instead, she texted Alaska, safe from the debris of Darienne’s collapsing career at the office where she, Bianca and the communications team were all watching. 

W: _Jesus fuck. I’ve seen ISIS condemned for less than this._

There was a pause as Alaska texted back. Willam tuned back in to the interview.

“…shorter than the, um, waiting times at McDonalds. Ambulances will practically start operating drive thrus!”

Willam audibly groaned. Darienne had obviously inflated her life belt, pulling out her precious line as a last-ditch attempt to save the interview. Raja was less impressed.

“That sounds like an extremely serious comparison, minister, you’re saying that this policy will simply rush patients through A&E as if they were…a burger? How thorough will doctors and nurses be?”

And there Darienne was again, back to flailing around the interview as if she was drowning.

A: _I’ve never seen a human being reduced to actual liquid before. Hope you have a tub to transport her back to the office._

W: _How’s Bianca holding up?_

A pause.

A: _I’ve seen mothers look less disgusted at their own afterbirth._

W: _I really hope you haven’t._

***

The first thing Willam, Darienne and Courtney were greeted with on their arrival back at the office was Jinkx’s sour face.

“Well I’m glad that interview went so well. We’ve been fending off calls from several papers asking if this policy is, quote, the government’s dying whalesong, and The Sun are planning to run with the headline ‘Would you like dies with that’, in reference to the suggestion that the NHS is about to go down the drain.”

Willam shook her head in contempt. “Imagine going to university for three years, getting a degree in journalism, and then being paid to come up with that crap.”

“Absolutely. I think we should run with the line that these accusations are nonsensical,” Darienne bristled, annoyed that her pride and joy of a policy wasn’t making the impact it was supposed to. Willam snapped her head round to face the minister.

“I mean, I don’t think we can cover our backs that easily. You did that interview sounding as if you’d just survived a house fire, I mean why did you include that drive-thru line?!”

“It was an emergency! It was a last ditch attempt, I had to do something!” Darienne barked back, her face set in a frown.

“An emergency line? A line to be used in an emergency? What were the instructions? In case of emergency, break glass by throwing yourself through the top floor window of the South Bank studios?!”

The shouting match was stopped abruptly as Alaska’s calm drawl trailed through the office. “Willam, I just got a text from Bianca. She said she wants to see you in her office in five minutes, and if you’re late she’s going to make you stand in the Dosac lobby on a hot day and watch your face fry off.”

A horrified pause. “Her words, not mine.”

Exhaling noisily, Willam grabbed her bag from where she’d just thrown it down on her desk. She tried to ignore Darienne’s smug smile as she made her way to the lift.

“Make sure you’ve got your wooden stake at the ready,” Courtney yelled after her supportively. Willam grinned back playfully from the hall.

“Don’t forget the holy water!” Adore added.

“Your breath already stinks of garlic so you’ve got that covered,” Jinkx joked, earning a fit of hysteria from Katya.

“God, I wish someone would hurry up and fire you,” Willam barked back as her voice was swallowed by the lift. Just before she hit the button to take her to the ground floor, she silently popped a piece of peppermint gum into her mouth from a small packet in her coat pocket, and began chewing.

***

Being able to see the inner workings of 10 Downing Street was like the part in The Wizard Of Oz when the curtain gets pulled back to reveal the Wizard as a sham. On the outside, it was the most perfect professional façade, a backdrop for thousands of press announcements, resignations and appointments. On the inside it resembled a prison riot at best, a hive of people running around trying to fix something, or spin something, or frantically complete some piece of unfinished work. It was slightly quieter today, Willam had noticed, as she sat on a hard, wooden chair outside Bianca’s office.

She’d been there dead on time, but Bianca was running ten minutes late so far. Lesser, more idiotic humans would call her out on it, but Willam had a functioning brain and a desire to stay alive until at least the end of the day. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and curled her lip. She hadn’t a clue why Bianca had called her for a meeting and chose to pass up on the opportunity to berate Darienne on that car crash of an interview. If Bianca was looking for someone to blame, it couldn’t be Willam. She had been under the impression that Bianca found her tolerable, but you could never really tell what her opinions on anything were other than sheer, unadulterated contempt.

The varnished, wooden door of Bianca’s office suddenly swung open, the woman standing poised in front of Willam like a bird of prey.

“You’re late,” she sniffed, as she held the door open for Willam to come in. Mumbling an apology, Willam slumped down into the leather-bound chair opposite Bianca’s desk and simply waited for whatever was about to come, looking casually around the room. It was a setting she knew all too well- the marble, white fireplace, the eerie green lamp giving off an abnormal white light on her desk. The nondescript paintings of some long-dead war heroes, the bookcases filled with files and files and files. The entire room screamed productivity.

“Can I get you a tea, Willam?” Bianca began casually as she sat down opposite her. Perplexed, Willam shook her head.

“I’m okay…I’d kind of just like to find out why I’m here. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be after Darienne?”

Snorting a laugh, Bianca rose from her chair and moved to perch on the edge of her desk. She was slightly above Willam’s level, but her tone and general aura were quite relaxed, bordering on informal.

“You were friends with Sharon Needles at university, correct?”

Willam frowned involuntarily. A hazy remembering of a face floated into her mind, white-blonde hair, black lipstick, ripped black jeans and t shirts of bands she probably didn’t even listen to. A lazy, theatrical sort of voice that always seemed to be present in seminars. A pale hand with black painted nails that often got stuck in the air during lectures.

“Friends is pushing it. She was on the same course as me and was about as irritating as thrush, and that’s all I really had to do with her,” she sniffed non-committaly. Bianca flared her nostrils and made a face, indicating to Willam that she’d given a wrong answer.

“Okay, perhaps my phrasing was a little off. In case you haven’t noticed, you haven’t stumbled into some friendship bracelet craft class, this is Downing Street. So I’ll rephrase the question. Is she any good?”

Willam felt momentarily like she was trapped in a lion enclosure. “Is she any good at…?”

“At juggling silicone breast implants whilst walking a tightrope over a lake of tepid piss. Is she any good at politics?!”

“I admired her stance on some things,” Willam admitted begrudgingly. “Get her talking about other things and it’s a bit like asking the over 65s what their opinions of memes are. She’s eloquent enough and nowhere near as big a car crash as that sheep’s placenta we’ve got as a minister.”

Bianca smiled fleetingly, then stood and walked back to her chair, appeased.

“Perfect,” she said, her eyes boring into Willam’s as she sat down. Looking momentarily behind her, Willam shifted in her seat.

“So, um. Why do you ask?” she asked slowly, drawing each word out just that little bit too long to be necessary. Bianca smiled slowly in return.

“It kind of came to my attention this afternoon that maybe there needs to be some…changes made around here. My party is being made to look like a laughing stock, and I don’t like it,” she growled, her eyes growing dark. “She’s been palming off her expenses forms onto you, correct?”

Willam nodded silently.

“Perhaps it would be in your best interests…and the party’s best interests…to doctor them slightly. Then if they end up in the hands of the media…so be it. Then really all that’s left to do is get a replacement in,” Bianca shrugged, leaning back in her chair calmly. Blinking twice, Willam suddenly became apprehensive.

“Bianca, I can’t…I can’t just fake her expenses claims.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have a note from your mum? Have you got a cold? You’re surprising me, Willam,” Bianca sighed, clearly disappointed. “I honestly thought you had something different in you. A spine, a brain. Some form of drive, determination to succeed. You love this party, yes? You came into politics to make a difference, yes?”

Willam flinched slightly. Bianca was hitting her where it hurt, and she knew it was going to get a rise out of her. “Of course. I want us to succeed. I want us to change things.”

Bianca smiled, glad to have received a sufficient reaction.

“Then sometimes, things have to be done by any means necessary,” she said gravely, running her tongue along her teeth. “If Needles accepts the offer, she’ll be the new head of Dosac by tomorrow afternoon.”

Something about the whole appointment of Sharon Needles didn’t sit right with Willam. She was just an annoying, opinionated, mouthy university girl, and there were ten a penny of those in London. Why her? Why not someone slightly more tolerable?

“Why does it have to be Sharon, why can’t it be someone else?” she blurted out, annoyed. Bianca laughed, clearly amused.

“Okay, Miss Political Advisor. Advise me, since I’ve clearly not weighed up all the options.”

Stuck for a moment, Willam’s brain began racing round at a hundred miles an hour. “Kelly Mantle. The back bencher from Education, she’s good.”

“No. She looks too much like a resident of Whoville to be put in the spotlight. Can you imagine when she inevitably fucks up, what the headlines will be? Who dunnit? Whose fault is it this time? Who, who, who, all over the front pages like owls with tourettes.”

Willam sighed, then perked up with another idea. “What about Bianca Castro from Health?”

“Who, Jiggly?” Bianca asked, nonplussed.

“…Bianca Castro. She has a good track record, the public would love her-”

“Yeah, Jiggly.”

“Bianca, her name isn’t Jiggly.”

“The media damn well think it is, after they got hold of those photos of her at the all-you-can-eat world buffet. Not exactly astounding publicity for a junior health minister. She’s going nowhere.”

Willam barely held in a grunt of frustration. “Ongina, that MP for-”

“Her name literally sounds like vagina. PR disaster. Next.”

“Jade Jolie.”

“She couldn’t run a bath, never mind a department.”

“Lashawn, then?!”

Bianca threw her head back and hooted a laugh. “You’re joking, right? Can you imagine her even trying to pronounce some of the names on the immigration database? She stays firmly on the back bench.”

Willam pouted a little. Seeing her obvious displeasure, Bianca’s tone became placating.

“Look. Right now, we need strong leaders in this party. Sharon is about as strong as we’re going to get from what I’ve heard, and we need her to steer us out of this ditch that Darienne’s gradually lowered us into. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of it,” she smiled, her tone reassuring as Willam stood and made to leave. Before she reached the door, a thought suddenly struck her like iced lightning, freezing her to the spot.

“Bianca…” Willam began hesitantly. “Do you think Sharon will come with her own people? I mean, I’m not hugely up to date with her movements, so I don’t know how prepared she’ll be, and I’m fine, I can look after myself, you know? But like, Courtney…and Alaska, of course. Will she…will they get to keep their jobs?”

Bianca’s eyes were instantly on her, searching and wondering about the hidden agenda behind Willam’s question. “I’ve known you for a long time, Willam. I must say, I’ve never seen you get attached to anyone in this game.”

“Well, you know,” Willam shrugged, maintaining a cool exterior. “We work well together. We’re a good team. And she’s a valuable member of the department, that’s all.”

“Courtney or Alaska?” Bianca questioned.

“They both are! I just…I just want to make sure they’ll both be fine.”

Bianca moved to the doorway, gently showing her out. “Just doctor those expenses. Try not to pop a blood vein while doing so.”

Sighing, Willam shook Bianca’s hand and click-clacked her way down the marble hallway towards the famous black door. Not too far along the corridor, she heard Bianca call after her.

“Willam!”

She turned around sharply.

“Loyalty gets remembered in this party. Especially by me.”

***

Willam hit send on her email to Bianca at 5.30pm on the dot. Darienne had claimed for Ubers from the department to Downing Street, business lunches at nearby curry houses, and, just for laughs, a helicopter. Willam had felt a little guilty, but it was impossible not to. If she had a complete lack of morals, she’d be working for Phi-Phi’s party, not Darienne’s. However, as Bianca had said, it was for the good of the party that she had to go.

She was still unsure about Sharon though. If everything went smoothly, by this time tomorrow she’d be sitting in Darienne’s office barking orders at her. It would be like every university group project all over again. Willam had never actively disliked Sharon, she’d just found her grating. She was slightly unique, though. True, there were many girls of her type on her course, argumentative and challenging, but there were few that held their composure so well throughout a debate, maintaining class and superiority the entire time. Maybe that’s why she’d rubbed Willam the wrong way so violently. Anyway, there had been a good eight years separating her time at uni and her time within the realm of politics. Perhaps Sharon was different now. 

Shutting down her computer, she swivelled her chair round to face the other girls. She’d communicated to everyone through hushed whispers that Bianca’s plan was getting put into effect immediately, creating an excited buzz around the office for the last few hours of the day. Regrettably, she’d noticed that Courtney had become more subdued because of it, and Willam wanted nothing more than to see her happy again. She just hadn’t had time to attempt to cheer her up in between the expenses and finishing the transport data.

It looked as if Adore had already left, her chair empty and her bag gone with a half-empty coffee cup on her desk. Jinkx had long since vanished, her desk clear and any evidence of her ever having been there completely gone. Violet was clearly in for the long shift, still working steadily through her excel spreadsheet with an energy drink by her keyboard. Alaska was pulling on her coat, fixing her hair rapidly, and Trixie and Katya looked ready to leave too. Courtney suddenly appeared in front of her.

“Hey,” she smiled gently. “We’re heading for a drink, think we could all do with one after today. You coming?”

Willam fleetingly thought of a night with the girls, of just having a laugh and being slightly less stressed than normal. The thought of a glass of wine was so tempting, but then the immediate thought of work the next day and how chaotic it would be made her decision for her.

“Sorry, Court. I’m going to head back. Next time though, yeah?” Willam gave a tight smile, sighing a little when Courtney’s face grew slightly more disappointed than before. As she nodded understandingly and turned to leave, Willam suddenly grabbed her hand without really knowing why. Checking the office to see if anyone was looking at them, Courtney then gazed at Willam searchingly.

“Talk to me. You’re still worried about tomorrow, aren’t you?” Willam murmured quietly, trying not to draw attention to them. Alaska was chatting happily with Trixie and Katya was hugging Violet goodbye, so they were safe for now.

Courtney’s face was worried. “I just hate the uncertainty. I wouldn’t be as apprehensive if it didn’t mean I could get split up from you and Alaska. We’re so good together. I’d hate to lose that.”

Willam’s heart swelled a little in her chest. “Listen. Don’t make it common knowledge, but I may have had a hand in Bianca’s plan. She kind of hinted that I’d be repaid in some way. We’ll all stay, don’t worry. I trust her.”

Willam almost breathed a sigh of relief as Courtney’s shocked face grew into a bright, happy smile. “Oh, Willam, really?!”

“Yeah. I got one wish. I sold my soul to the devil. Sue me,” Willam snorted sarcastically, making Courtney laugh.

“Wait, what did you have to do for her?” Courtney whispered, her eyes excited.

“Oh, Bianca’s my pimp now. She had to give Adore a break, she was in too high demand.”

Courtney’s nose wrinkled up as she laughed uproariously, drawing the attention of the other girls to them to Willam’s dismay. Courtney looked beautiful when she laughed. Then again, she looked beautiful all the time.

That was just a fact, of course.

“Hey, bitch-features! You coming out with us? Trannika and Pearl are joining, ” Trixie yelled over, smiling as she wrapped her arm around Katya’s slim waist. Willam tried her best not to screw her face up- she had a hard time being polite to anyone from the opposition, even if they were only civil service comms officers.

“Nah, she’s being boring,” Courtney teased, sticking her tongue out.

“Aw, come on, Willam! Remember what Nelson Mandela said, you miss 110% of the vodka shots you don’t take,” Katya piped up, giggling and throwing her other arm around Trixie. Willam smiled at the affectionate couple.

“Yeah, well, like Courtney said, I’m being boring tonight. You and Alaska take care of those two blonde liver transplants waiting to happen, okay? I can’t quite believe I’m saying it, but you two need to be the responsible ones.” 

As Katya laughed, Trixie and Alaska said their goodbyes to Willam. Courtney was still hovering at her desk, a small smile on her face as she bent down and hugged Willam without warning.

“You’re the best member of this whole department, and an even better friend,” she whispered. Pulling back, she gave a quick glance to the girls who were waiting on the lift to arrive. “I owe you one, girl. Have a good night. Eat dinner and sleep well, okay?”

Willam gazed fondly at Courtney, her tiny frame retreating into the lift. Courtney cared about her. She cared about everyone. It was part of the reasons why Willam liked her so much.

Just as a friend, though. Obviously.

*** 

Arriving at work the next day, it was clear that Bianca’s plan had worked. Thanks to a few emails to the big papers, Darienne’s false expenses claims were plastered over all the front pages, giving a pretty damning verdict.

“She’s good at leaking, isn’t she? Bianca, I mean,” Jinkx pondered casually from her desk, causing Willam to look up from The Times.

“She’s brilliant. She’s like an 85 year old woman that never did pelvic floor exercises,” Katya muttered, ignoring the ringing phone.

“Nothing in The Independent about it though, I’ll give you that, Adore,” Alaska laughed, holding up the front page which was jarringly dissonant with the other headlines, instead focussing on something to do with the polar icecaps melting, or some other apocalyptic heralding.

“I’m good! I keep telling you all and you never listen,” Adore winked cheekily, as the phone continued to ring.

“Isn’t someone going to answer that?!” Courtney snapped, frustrated. Violet reached for the receiver hesitantly, looking at Jinkx to gauge her reaction. As she fixed her eagle eyes on the tiny girl, Violet drew her hand back as if the phone was a hot stove.

“I’ve already told them all we’re in a no comment situation,” Jinkx turned to Courtney, shrugging. “There’s nothing else we need to say, if these bastards don’t get the meaning of that then quite frankly, they shouldn’t be in journalism.”

Willam stayed quiet throughout the whole exchange. She was worried, fretting about what Darienne would say when she arrived. She knew full well she was going to get the blame, hell, she was to blame. As much as Willam could pretend to be completely ruthless, the guilt was beginning to seep in. At this point everyone in the department knew it was Willam who had a hand in fixing the expenses forms and although everyone was being perfectly normal and friendly towards her, she was concerned about what they really thought and what they’d say when she left the room.

She hadn’t even seen Alaska come and stand next to her.

“You’re awfully quiet today, sweetie,” she drawled, leaning against a set of shelves that contained about twenty thousand government files. “Everything alright?”

Willam nodded silently, brushing her fringe out of her face. That didn’t appear to satisfy Alaska.

“Look, nobody thinks any less of you for what you did. It’s politics, it’s not children’s TV. Sacrifices have to be made, people have to be disposed of. You did the department a favour, to be honest,” she continued, as if she could read Willam’s mind. Willam couldn’t help but smile. Alaska had a certain telepathic quality, and often she could begin cheering you up before you even knew what reasons you had to be sad. She was a total ray of sunshine, and her happy-go-lucky personality was welcome in the department today.

“Thanks, girl,” Willam sighed, stretching out in her chair and giving Alaska a tight smile. “That means a lot. You’re a blessing to this department, Lask. I mean, god knows the mood in here today’s about as flat as a supermodel’s chest.”

Alaska laughed softly, leaning back a little more against the files. “I try my best. But hey, I should thank you! Once Darienne goes, I might see about standing as an MP in the next by-election.”

Willam raised her eyebrows a little. She had no idea that Alaska had even had ambitions outside of trying every single drink available at Five Guys. “Really?!”

“Yeah, I’ve kind of been thinking about it for a while.”

Willam was secretly excited about the prospect of working with just Courtney. Purely because things would be easier to organise between just two people, and things would just run more smoothly. It wasn’t because she had a crush on her or anything, that would be a ridiculous accusation. Willam was a professional. There was no scope for things like that in this career.

“Well, I’m sure you’d do amazing. The public would adore you,” she smiled at her friend sincerely. Flattered, Alaska relaxed completely against the shelves, a giant file careering from the top shelf onto the ground.

“I’ll get it,” Willam reassured Alaska, whose face was apologetic.

“Right, I’m off to get Darienne,” Courtney announced, making her way to the lifts a little nervously. “Bright smiles when she arrives please, people, try not to make the office feel too much like a wake.”

Katya tipped her head back over the back of her chair, looking at Courtney upside-down. “Are we not supposed to be mourning Darienne’s career?”

With a long-suffering shake of her head, Courtney disappeared into the lift.

Five minutes later, Willam was picking up the dropped file from behind the shelf when two sets of footsteps thundered through the office and a voice cut through the click-clack, tapping keyboards and ringing phones.

“MEETING ROOM, NOW!”

Slowly, Willam crept towards Darienne’s office, following a running Jinkx and Alaska. Darienne was stood behind the desk, her face a thunderstorm. As soon as Willam skulked in, she narrowed her eyes.

“Can someone, maybe Willam, tell me why my face is all over the papers like a disgraced fucking gym teacher?!” she barked, her voice reverberating off the glass door of her office.

“Okay, there must have been some form of mix-up with the forms because yours was completely clean when I submitted it,” Willam immediately fired back. She’d had a bit of time to come up with her defence and, even though it was completely feeble, it was better than silence.

“That’s got to be the most shit excuse I’ve ever heard. How does something like that happen?!” Darienne yelled back. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes shifted to the doorframe of Darienne’s office, where Bianca had arrived.

“Hey, big spender,” she greeted the minister, the joke sitting out of place with her stony facial expression. 

“Bianca, I didn’t claim for those things. I don’t know what’s going on, I gave my forms to Willam to do, we need to tell the press that these claims are fake!” Darienne gibbered, panicking like Bianca was holding her hostage.

“Yes, what is the line on this? My team have been doing Scottish Football Association all morning,” Jinkx yawned, the tension in the room suddenly dissipating as everyone looked at her with dumbfounded expressions. “Scottish Football Association…SFA…sweet fuck all…?”

“Don’t try to make a joke Jinkx. You’re not funny. You could only dream of the canned laughter bestowed on clips of babies falling into cowpats on You’ve Been Framed,” Bianca snapped, shutting Jinkx down.

“What are we running with, though? We’ve been in a no comment situation all morning,” Alaska asked Bianca.

“Oh, Christ, could you all just get off my back for a second?! You’re like a pack of fucking fleas. Are you not supposed to be a team of advisors? Are you not supposed to be head of communications?!” Bianca cried, shooting Jinkx an icy glare. Completely unfazed, Jinkx clicked her pen.

“Yes, but I’m completely unable to do anything if I don’t know what we’re communicating!”

Bianca rolled her huge eyes up to the heavens, seemingly trying to cool her boiling blood. As Willam scanned her eyes over the rest of the room, she caught Courtney looking straight at her, her eyes fearful. Willam shot her the most reassuring smile she could manage and almost gave an audible sigh of relief when Courtney seemed to relax.

“So, you want to go out to the media and tell them that, hey! It’s not so bad, because the truth is that I’m too lazy to fill out my own fucking expenses forms, so I just gave them to one of my aides to fill out! I’m not actually keeping that close an eye on how much I’m spending or claiming back! Do you realise how that’s going to look?” Bianca scowled, Darienne sighing and slumping into her chair.

“So what do we do?!” she asked, her voice somewhere between a whine and a plea. Willam began to feel a bit less guilty as she rolled her eyes. She wished Darienne had a bit more balls, a bit more of a spine. It would endear her to her a lot more. That sort of big-eyed deer act was only cute when Courtney did it.

There was a momentary silence in which Jinkx clicked her pen repeatedly, looking from Darienne to Bianca, then back to Darienne.

“You have two options,” Bianca finally said, her voice much quieter than before. Turning to the other girls, she addressed them gravely. “Could you ladies give us a moment.”

Not a question, a demand. One by one, Willam, Courtney, Alaska and Jinkx all filed out and wordlessly closed the door. After a heartbeat of silence, Jinkx sprinted over to the comms team.

“Is it happening?!” Adore asked, wide-eyes and open mouthed, like a child at Christmas.

“It’s happening now! It’s happening now. Two bullets in the back of the head, bang, bang!” Jinkx replied excitedly, her voice ringing through the offices as she mimed a brutal murder.

“JINKX!” Courtney hissed, motioning to the glass-fronted office where Bianca and Darienne were standing motionless, looking at Jinkx impassively. Horrified, she abruptly sat down in her seat.

“I can’t believe it’s actually going on right now. Oh God, she’s going to hate me,” Courtney worried, biting her nails. Alaska slapped her hand away from her mouth.

“Stop that!” she reprimanded, Courtney looking to the floor sheepishly. “She won’t hate you, and if she does, well that’s politics. She’s a grown adult, she can handle it. She knew the profession she was entering into was ruthless.”

“Nobody could hate you,” Willam added, brushing Courtney’s cheek with her finger very slightly. “You’re like a fucking carebear. It’s impossible.” 

A pink blush crept over Courtney’s face. “You guys are too lovely to be politicians. So, have we heard about a replacement?”

Willam sighed. “I don’t know if she’s accepted it or not yet, but Bianca told me Sharon Needles is in the running.”

Alaska and Courtney’s faces both screwed up. “Who is that?”

“I went to Uni with her. I didn’t even know she was in the game until Bianca told me she’d scouted her out. I still think Jiggly would be better.”

“You mean Bianca Castro?” Alaska raised one eyebrow.

“Fuck, yes I do. Now she’s got me doing it,” Willam sighed, further confusing the two girls.

Suddenly, there was a creak from the office door. Darienne emerged, her posture perfect and her head held high as she walked towards the three girls. Her eyes were cold, so much so that Willam found herself shivering a little.

“Right, well. Thank you, ladies, for your unwavering support. I wish you all very long and successful careers,” she said cooly, then her face darkened. “And I hope you all get heart failure.”

“Darienne, please!” Courtney pleaded as Darienne marched towards the lift, a storm cloud of rage. As Darienne stepped into the lift, Trixie began whistling Another One Bites The Dust under her breath. Katya started laughing so hard she had to sprint to the toilet.

Willam started laughing too. She had to, she couldn’t help it. This pathetic, et tu, Brute? act was wearing. Alaska was right, these were the rules of the damn game. People in the department had come and gone as if Dosac was a massive fucking revolving door, and Darienne had never shed a tear for them. Willam hated the hypocrisy that was so freely batted about in politics. Mourning a departure with a simple “it’s a shame, but they had to go” and then acting like the fucking Godfather when your own time came. There was no dignity in it, no class.

“Ding dong, the useless fucking bitch is dead,” Bianca deadpanned, Courtney relaxing and giggling a little at the slightly less high-intensity Bianca.

“What happens now, then?” Willam asked her. “Did Needles take the job?”

“Like a trout on a hook. And take that literally, her lips are botoxed to fuck. Right, here’s the line!” Bianca suddenly yelled, loud enough that Darienne could probably hear it from the ground floor. “Darienne will be giving a statement outside Number 10 in fifteen minutes. After that, all I want to hear is praise. Praise, praise, praise, Psalm one hundred and fucking one. At 12pm, you guys will have a new minister. Jinkx, it’s your job to break her in. Break her fucking spine if necessary.”

Jinkx nodded apprehensively, unsure of how serious Bianca was.

“I’ll see you all again at half 12. Oh, and Hitler’s master Aryan race?” Bianca said, turning suddenly to address Willam, Courtney and Alaska as she hit the button of the lift. “It won’t be necessary to clear your desks if you don’t plan on leaving.”

As Bianca left, Courtney turned excitedly to Willam and Alaska, grinning madly as she gave them a huge hug, happy at being allowed to stay.

Willam decided she’d probably have quite literally stabbed Darienne in the back in order to have that smile flashed at her again.

***

“Ladies, I’d like to introduce your new minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship…Sharon Needles!”

Everyone started clapping, but in equal measures scrutinising the tall girl in front of them, standing beside Jinkx nervously and waving hello. She had changed since Willam had last seen her. Bianca was right, she had been botoxed, but she didn’t necessarily look fake. She’d kept her hair long, but it was more of a cold grey colour than the dyed, straw-like white she’d had at uni. Her icy blue eyes were bright, not like how they used to be when she’d trail into a tutorial five minutes late, the glaze of a hangover making her pupils look more like marbles. Her skin was still pale as fuck though, a white contrast to her matte red lips. Willam’s feet were beginning to get sore in her Louboutins, tired from standing in line with Courtney and Alaska waiting to welcome Sharon. She didn’t have to wait much longer though, as Sharon was already shaking Courtney’s hand, smiling and gushing about how she was so honoured to take up the position and how she was so looking forward to working with her. Willam stared at her, a little irritated with the dramatics. Sharon then moved on to Alaska, who was standing in the middle of the line. Willam watched as they both looked at each other, Alaska sort of open-mouthed and Sharon seemingly finding it hard to formulate words.

“You must be Alaska. It’s so good to meet you,” she finally said as she shyly held out her hand. Alaska took it, shaking it gently. Willam gave a derisive snort. She’d given tighter-gripped handjobs.

“It’s good to meet you too,” Alaska mumbled, her voice a little above a whisper and her eyes not once tearing away from Sharon’s.

“I, um. I hope you’re staying on?” Sharon asked, her voice a little hopeful as she gave Alaska a smile, her teeth as white as her skin.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to start working with you,” Alaska nodded. Willam’s brow furrowed in confusion, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. What the fuck was this?

“Well, I’m excited to get started,” Sharon smiled, giving Alaska one last look as she finally tore her eyes away and faced Willam. Her face immediately changed, taking on that awkward sort of expression where you’re not really certain what to say to someone who you haven’t seen in a while but were never really close to. “Willam! Hi! Gosh, it’s been a while!”

“Yeah, like eight years. You look good,” Willam replied curtly, not really instantly warming to Sharon despite her efforts.

“It’s going to be so good working together. Just like at uni! I didn’t quite believe it when Bianca said you were here!”

“Yeah, well I’m just climbing the ladder. Where have you been these past few years, anyway?” 

“Just the stock exchange. It was always the economic side of our degree I was more interested in, but when Bianca phoned me I thought this was a pretty unmissable opportunity!” Sharon beamed at an unimpressed Willam. Receiving no reply, she stepped back a little awkwardly. “Anyway, it’s so good that you’re here. I’d better start my briefing, so I’ll speak with you later?”

Willam nodded wordlessly as Sharon click-clacked away. Courtney tilted her head, her glossy hair swaying.

“I like her. I think she’s going to be good,” she concluded, clasping her hands together. Willam narrowed her eyes at Alaska, whose gaze was still fixed on Sharon.

“What the hell was that, Lask? What about your MP thing? You’re seriously going to pass that opportunity up?!”

Alaska leant back against the glass door of Darienne’s old office, gazing dreamily at nothing in particular. “Um…yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll stay on. I’m still young, I’ve got time for the whole MP endeavour in a few years’ time. No, I think I’ll stick around here for a bit longer. Things might get interesting.”

Still confused at Alaska’s sudden change of heart, Willam shook her head, shrugging. In her opinion, Alaska was out of her mind, but if that was her decision then that was that. As Courtney and Alaska chatted excitedly, Willam made her way back to her desk, her head kind of in a daze. A lot was happening, and she didn’t really know what the next few months were going to be like. An economist in a political position wasn’t new, but she was still reserved about welcoming Sharon with open arms. Still, whatever happened, she was glad that she had Courtney and Alaska to stumble through it all with.

God, she was glad Courtney was staying.

Looking over to the Comms team she saw that Trixie’s computer was displaying the BBC website, where a video of Darienne’s earlier resignation speech was playing. Trixie was sat in her chair, Violet crouching at her right and Katya at her left, Adore peering over Katya’s shoulder as Darienne set down her sheets of paper and walked away from the lectern set up outside Downing Street. Trixie threw her hands in the air as if she was praising God.

“The old minister is dead,” she cried dramatically. “Long live the minister!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Brand-new Minister for Social Affairs and Citizenship Sharon Needles needs to make a splash with the public. Advisor Willam thinks politics would be much easier if Sharon would just stop making moon-eyes at Alaska, and if Courtney stopped being so adorable._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _PSA I do absolutely love Shangela but the role she plays in this chapter was necessary here. I do have a Shangela backstory within this universe that involves Dela and if anyone's interested I could post it here? Idk let me know what u think._
> 
> _TW: homophobic slur_

Willam thought that old saying was pretty much spot on- a week was a long time in politics. More fittingly, a week seemed like a year in politics when nobody was talking about you at all, which was exactly the case for Sharon Needles. The expenses scandal had taken up most of the headlines for the past seven days, as it had emerged that Darienne apparently hadn’t been the only one that had been doctoring them. There had been a lot of reshuffling within the party as a result of the various resignations that had ensued and Bianca had been close to a massive coronary for the whole week trying to make order out of chaos.

The worst thing about the whole situation was having to watch Phi Phi on the BBC lunchtime news, sat in front of Chi-Chi Devayne and shaking her head solemnly as she gave their whole party a damning verdict, saying how out of touch with the electorate they were and how much they lacked empathy for the British public. It still made Willam’s blood boil; the fact that Phi Phi could accuse them of being out of touch when she grew up on acres of land, was privately educated her whole life and had basically been awarded the job of shadow minister for social affairs and citizenship by her father and his Etonian schoolboy clique. The irony was almost painful.

Still, a week had been and gone and Sharon hadn’t quite made the splash that Bianca had been hoping for. She’d been given about the equivalent of a column inch across the tabloids and a couple of mentions on TV as part of the reshuffle, but apart from that they might as well have appointed an stuffed aubergine as Darienne’s replacement and the media wouldn’t have given two fucks. Sharon, for her part, seemed suitably disappointed. It was definitely interesting having her in the department, Willam thought. She was an improvement on Darienne; efficient, motivating, determined. Productivity in the department seemed to have risen by quite an amount and for the first time in months Willam could actually see Adore’s desk, the clutter and unfinished work almost gone. Alaska had certainly started to throw herself into her work a lot more in the past week, which was intriguing for someone who had wanted to quit the job before Sharon arrived. Courtney, if anything, was three times as panicked about everything than before. She was constantly paranoid that Darienne was going to bomb Dosac as a result of their betrayal. Much as it made Willam laugh, she hated seeing Courtney genuinely afraid and had to remind her almost daily that if Darienne could never be arsed walking across her office to the water cooler, she probably wouldn’t go to the effort of creating an elaborate Guy Fawkes-esque attack on the department. Willam’s stomach always flipped when Courtney was finally reassured and flashed her a little shy smile, but that was probably just Adore forgetting to put the lacto-free milk in her tea again.

Definitely not anything to do with Courtney.

Although not everything about Sharon’s arrival was positive. She had a way of being informal to the point that Willam often had to remind her that she was still a government minister, her confusion about the department protocol and irritation at having to wear heels all the time wearing in the extreme. This was the problem when Bianca hired a total rookie; Sharon didn’t really understand that things just were. For Willam it reminded her of how annoying she found her, but the other girls in the department seemed incredibly enamoured with her. Trixie liked her makeup, Katya loved her humour. Courtney was impressed with how organised and on top of things she was, Adore admired her steel grey hair. Violet liked her fashion sense and had begun wearing a lot more black recently as a sort of homage to the new minister, Jinkx appreciated how friendly she was to everyone that worked there. Alaska seemed to hang off every word she said, nodding enthusiastically at any suggestion Sharon made, giggling like a fucking child at any joke she deadpanned. It was weird, Willam thought. Alaska greeted most things in life with a lazy sort of enthusiasm to match her long, drawn-out style of speaking and her languid sort of movements, but whenever she was around Sharon it was as if someone had replaced all the blood in her veins with Red Bull. She was always so alert, the first to speak up in meetings and give a pro to any con of an idea of Sharon’s. It was a severe personality transplant, but that must have been the effect Sharon had on people. Well, people who weren’t Willam.

When Sharon bounced into the department on Monday morning behind Courtney, she was wearing a black and white dress patterned with magpies and carrying two full trays of Starbucks coffee.

“Good morning, ladies!” she sang, her bright smile dissonant with the grey drizzle outside and the fact that it wasn’t even 9am. “Thought we could all use some coffee this morning, start of a new week and all that. Violet, I’ve got a skinny latte for you!”

Violet, who was as skinny as the aforementioned latte, jumped up out of her chair and took the coffee from Sharon with a grateful smile and a polite thank you.

“Katya, I knew you liked your cappuccino with a shot of hazelnut, and Trixie without,” Sharon continued, handing out coffee cups like Santa in a shopping mall’s sub-par grotto. “Adore, I got you a hot chocolate, Jinkx, I couldn’t remember whether or not you liked green tea or camomile so I got you raspberry and apple, is that okay?”

As Jinkx’s face lit up and reassured her that raspberry and apple was fine, Willam found herself rolling her eyes. If Sharon wanted to get them all onside with drinks which essentially served as props for the Instagram photos of little white teenagers, then she could be Willam’s guest, but she wasn’t about to start buddying up to her anytime soon. She watched as she handed Courtney a soy milk latte, something inside her burning fiercely as she saw Courtney flash her angelic smile Sharon’s way. The minister then moved on to Alaska’s desk, her cheerful demeanour suddenly becoming a little repressed, as if she was holding back out of embarrassment or fear or something else that wouldn’t make any sense at all. Willam and Courtney seemed to be the only ones watching as Alaska looked up at Sharon from under her lashes.

“Hey,” Sharon began, smiling almost tentatively at the other girl. Alaska tucked her long, blonde hair behind her ears and returned the smile.

“Morning, Sharon,” she replied brightly, her voice seeming a little shaky.

“I got you a peppermint hot chocolate,” Sharon held out the cup nervously as Alaska’s face lit up. “I remembered you saying the other day that you liked mint and chocolate together so…I thought you might like it.”

Willam screwed her face up. That had been a conversation that had taken place last Friday, where Willam had insisted the entire concept of pairing chocolate with what was essentially just a leaf was insane, and Alaska passionately defended the disgusting combination. It was a silly debate, the kind that could probably be overheard in an infant school playground, and the week had worn them down so their level of intellectualism hadn’t exactly been high. They’d been in the car on the way to Prime Minister’s Questions and from what Willam could remember Sharon hadn’t even taken part in the conversation. So how could she remember that?

“I did say that,” Alaska beamed excitedly, looking up at Sharon with sparkling eyes. “Thank you so much!”

Sharon gave an awkward little nod and then moved swiftly on to Willam’s desk.

“I remembered you were lactose intolerant,” she shrugged, smiling almost shyly as she rested the cup on Willam’s desk. Willam regarded it for a second then turned to face Sharon.

“You shouldn’t buy coffee from tax-dodging companies. It reflects badly on the party,” she said bluntly, feeling a sense of schadenfreude as Sharon’s smile faltered somewhat. That’ll teach that bitch to make Courtney so goddamned happy.

Wait, where the fuck had that come from?

Feeling a little guilty and coming to the conclusion that she could really use some coffee, Willam shot Sharon the tiniest smile before adding, “Thanks, though. I guess.”

Satisfied, Sharon turned and walked quickly into her office with her own coffee. Willam exhaled deeply as she relaxed a little in her chair. She was being a bitch, she knew that, but in her eyes Sharon still had to prove herself to her. Buying them all coffee and staying out of the public eye was hardly going to cut it.

Willam hadn’t even noticed Courtney wheeling her way towards her on her swivel chair until she was right at her side.

“Morning, Mrs Crocodile,” she smirked playfully, nudging Willam with her shoulder. Willam narrowed her eyes at her in response.

“Court, what in the fuck is that even supposed to fucking mean?” she sighed, too tired to even try to play along.

“Because you’re so snappy,” Courtney giggled at her own joke, her caffeine-induced cheerfulness completely unwavering. Willam tilted her head and fixed her friend with an unimpressed glare. Nonplussed, Courtney bopped her on the nose with her finger. “Is someone a bit jealous of our new minister friend?”

“Jealous, please,” Willam scoffed. “In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever been jealous of anyone?”

“Well, no. But there’s a first time for everything!” teased Courtney, sipping her own drink and becoming the human embodiment of the Kermit sipping tea meme. Willam desperately wanted to change the subject.

“How was your weekend, anyway?”

“Oh, not bad. Katya, Trixie and I went for lunch with Trannika on Saturday at that new Italian that opened up in Soho. Awful service but the food was incredible so we’re defs going back. You should’ve come with us!”

Willam grimaced. “You know how I feel about anyone who works for Phi Phi, Court.”

“Willam, come on, Trannika works for the civil service,” Courtney rolled her eyes. “I mean, look over there and tell me honestly if there’s anyone sat at those desks that’s party loyal.”

Willam cast her eyes over to the comms team. Katya and Trixie had fashioned the assorted litter on their desks into a mini game of table football, Jinkx was reading Heat magazine. On first glance it looked as if Adore was actually doing work, until Willam realised the phone she was talking into was definitely not a work phone, the huge cat-shaped phone case giving her away. Violet was painting her nails silver.

Knowing that Courtney had her defeated, Willam cast her gaze to the keyboard surreptitiously. “Things might be different at Phi-Phi’s end, though.”

“Willam, Trannika told us that last week Phi Phi and her team went to the treasury and the entire comms team played jousting with their wheely chairs across the office until they got back.”

“Even Bob?”

“The whole thing had been Roberta’s idea! Come on, we’re going for drinks tonight after work. Please say you’ll come?” Courtney pleaded, suddenly taking Willam’s hand and in turn sending an electric charge straight to her heart. “I always miss you when you’re not with us.”

Well. This changed the whole game. Courtney missed her, and so clearly if Willam came out tonight that would make her happy. All Willam really wanted in life was to make Courtney happy. No- that sounded weird, like she had a crush on her or something, but Willam loved seeing Courtney smile and the prospect of having that smile directed at her was worth spending time with the opposition. Taking a long sip of her coffee, Willam was amused by the way Courtney’s face was frozen in suspense.

“Okay, I’ll come tonight. BUT-” Willam held a hand up, attempting to silence the excited Courtney who was jumping up and down in her chair like an energetic puppy. “- I’m not staying too long, and you’re buying me a drink.”

“Perfect,” Courtney beamed, giving Willam’s hand one last squeeze and letting it go. Beginning to wheel her chair back to her own desk, she threw her head back and groaned. “I can’t wait for this day to be over now!”

Trying to recover from her interaction with the human cocker spaniel, she turned her attention to the comms team.

“Do you guys not have some actual work to be getting on with?”

“Look around you, Wills. This place is like Russia,” Trixie stretched out in her chair lazily, distracted from her game.

“That’s literally the most offensive thing I’ve ever heard,” Katya butted in, her face deadpan and earning her a snort of laughter from her girlfriend.

“What I mean is, there’s no phones ringing. Nobody gives a shit about Dosac at the moment, they’re too busy going over the finer details of everyone’s expenses and why Coco Montrese claimed for a duck house.”

Willam had to give the media that; Coco’s duck house did seem to win the award for most ridiculous claim made, and the very fact that it had cost £850 was front page-worthy in itself. Sighing, she stood up from her desk and started to walk towards Sharon’s office.

“I’ll go talk to her,” she reassured the girls, who were no longer paying attention and had resumed their game of table football. Knocking on Sharon’s glass door, she could see her lounging in her chair, her feet up on the table as she scrolled at her laptop, bored.

“Come in!”

Willam opened the door and click-clacked her way inside. Not bothering to sit, she opted instead to lean against the wall. “You wanna give those girls out there something to work on, instead of just coffee?”

Sharon gave her a disgruntled glare, swinging her heels down off the desk and onto the floor with a heavy clunk.

“They’re not working on anything because there isn’t anything to work on. I can’t get anything I want off ground until the media actually acknowledge my existence. I mean, am I a real person? Am I a ghost?”

“You fuckin’ look like a ghost with that skin of yours, ever heard of a sunbed?”

“Willam, I’m serious!” Sharon snapped at her, Willam biting back a laugh and apologising. “I mean, what do you have to do to get on TV these days? Fuck a bat? Eat a used tampon? I don’t know what the minimum requirements are anymore.”

“Please don’t do either of those things.”

“You know what I mean. I mean, where’s Bianca been? I’ve not seen her since my first day.”

“She’s been too busy drinking the blood of those old ministers she had to fire and reshuffling the entire party like some horrific human card deck. You’ll see her again, don’t worry. She probably has a plan for this whole radio silence the media have decided to pull on you,” Willam found herself reassuring Sharon, who was slumped forward with her head in her hands, looking disappointed. Obviously comforted somewhat, she sat up straight in her chair and smiled at Willam.

“Thanks, Willam. I guess I could start preparing for that incapacity benefits debate on Friday?” she shrugged, pulling her laptop in front of her decisively.

“That’s my girl,” Willam gave the air an anaemic punch as she strolled out of the office again. Sitting back in her chair and sighing, she hoped that Bianca would show up before the day was out. 

***

Bianca did have a plan.

She turned up to the office at around 9.30, around half an hour after Willam had spoken to Sharon, and greeted everyone with milder insults than normal which made Willam think that she was in a good mood. As she called for Jinkx, Willam, Courtney and Alaska to come to the office, something told Willam that the day was about to get a lot more high-octane.

Bianca liked Sharon from what Willam saw of their first meeting. She supposed “liked” was the wrong word- “highly tolerated”, or just simply “didn’t want to strangle her” would be more appropriate. Willam thought it was probably because Sharon had that way of being pleasant enough without coming across as an ass-kisser or a bullshitter, two things that Bianca despised. 

“Right, the Loose Women panel,” she began, casting her hand across the girls in the room. “I’ve noticed that Sharon is getting about as much attention as Jedward’s third album. Jinkx I know you’re not quite up to speed with popular culture so in layman’s terms, that’s fuck all attention.”

Jinkx bristled with offence as the other girls laughed. “I’m not a damn fossil, thank you very much.”

“Anyway, all that is going to change today,” Bianca turned to face Sharon, looking her directly in the eye. “I’ve got you three interviews with major newspapers.”

“What, nothing on TV?” Sharon cried, frustrated. Willam saw Courtney visibly stiffen out of the corner of her eye in preparation for the oncoming hellfire Bianca was about to unleash.

“Oh I’m sorry, Marylyn Monroe! In case you haven’t noticed, you’re a cabinet minister, not a fucking film star,” Bianca spat, her eyes glinting as she put Sharon in her place. “I’ve been busting my fucking ovaries to get this massive expenses fuck-up sorted and you want to argue the toss between having your human milk bottle face plastered over the papers or beamed into people’s living rooms? Calm the hell down. You have a fucking bundle to learn, let me tell you.”

Courtney immediately hopped in, eager to dispel the tension that Bianca had created in the room. “Do we know who the interviews are with, Bianca?”

“We’ve got a print piece with The Independent. Laila McQueen is doing that one, she’s still young and will probably do the interview either high or hungover so you should be alright. The second is for a supplement in The Times and it’s got an accompanying photoshoot. I believe Fame is in charge of all that.”

Sharon laughed derisively, raising a single eyebrow in disbelief. “Fame?”

“Yes, Fame! That’s the bitch’s fucking name, and also what you’ll be avoiding for the rest of your career if you try to take the goddamned piss one more time!” Bianca folded her arms in defiance. Calming slightly and returning to her point, she continued. “Your last one of the day is with The Daily Mail.”

Willam involuntarily sucked in a breath of air through her teeth. The Daily Mail had the potential to be a danger depending on who was conducting the interview.

“Do we know who we’ve got for that one?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“We don’t yet but it’s definitely not Gia. She’s away in Spain covering Yara Sofia’s wedding or some other tat,” Bianca curled her top lip, clearly unimpressed with the current standard of journalism. 

“Thank God. I don’t think I could sit listening to her speak through her nasal passages for a whole half hour,” Alaska drawled, clearly oblivious to the irony of her complaining about nasal voices.

“Anyway, that’s an online interview so at least you’ll reach a larger audience. Your interview with Laila is at 10.30, after that you’ll have a car to transport you and fucking Little Mix here to the next two. Are you clear on what the line is for everything?” Bianca asked, training one nail on Sharon’s face like a sniper.

“Yes,” Sharon said immediately.

“You’re still pushing what we spoke about last week?”

“Respond more compassionately to the refugee crisis, cut the banker’s bonuses and stop the war on benefit claimants,” Sharon fired off passionately, reminding Willam of every single uni debate she’d ever taken part in.

Maybe she was going to be a force for good in this party after all.

“Jesus, nobody could accuse you of being wishy-washy,” Bianca raised her eyebrows, the closest thing to impressed Willam had seen her in weeks. “Okay, go out into the world and make your mark! Make sure it’s not a skid mark. I’ll be back to check in at 4.”

With that, Bianca was carried away by her Jimmy Choos before Willam could even wave her goodbye. Heaving a huge exhale, Sharon sat up in her chair and drummed her nails on the desk in what was either excitement or nervousness. 

“Look at you! A photoshoot already for the next big thing in politics? Bianca must love you,” Courtney beamed at her, relaxing against the filing cabinet she had been standing beside. All four of the other girls burst out laughing immediately.

“I think love might be a bit strong, Court,” Alaska laughed, throwing her head back and letting her long, blonde hair cascade down her back. “But she’s right, this is a big deal, Sharon! You’re going to do great.”

Sharon’s cheeks became a little flushed as she gave Alaska a hopeful smile. “You think so?”

Alaska looked to the floor momentarily, tucking an unruly section of hair behind one ear as her own cheeks began to go a little pink.

“Of course you will. Believe in yourself, we all believe in you!” she finally said supportively. Then quietly, she added, “Especially me.” 

The room was suddenly silent as Sharon unsuccessfully tried to hold back a massive smile, Alaska still blushing and looking at Sharon timidly. Looking to Jinkx incredulously, Willam decided to swiftly move them all on from whatever the fuck this was.

“Told you Bianca would have a plan, didn’t I?” she raised her eyebrows smugly, stretching out in her chair like a cat.

“You did indeed, Willam,” Sharon indulged her, smirking a little.

“Much as I’d love to join in the Willam Was Right All Along celebrations, we do only have half an hour until we need to be at The Independent,” Jinkx clicked her pen impatiently, prompting a flurry of activity within the office. Courtney was asked to phone for Sharon’s driver, Alaska and Willam were to collect any and all relevant notes that could be useful for the interviews, and Jinkx was asked to stay and go over the media briefing with Sharon one more time. As the girls rushed around the department getting things ready, Adore shouted over from the comms team asking what in the real and actual fuck was going on.

“Bianca’s kickstarting Sharon’s career so we’re going to be running around various media offices all day. We’re paying your girlfriend a visit, by the way,” Alaska smirked, laughing at the way Adore blushed slightly and turned her attention back to her keyboard.

“Hey, you’re in no position to speak, girl,” Willam lowered her voice as she joined Alaska as she flicked her way through a massive filing cabinet. “What the hell was that in there? Ohh, we all believe in you Sharon, you’re going to do great, suck my clit!”

Willam immediately regretted her comments as Alaska suddenly hit her with a massive lever arch file, her face unimpressed. “I’m simply trying to be nice and supportive. You know, being nice? You maybe did it once back in 2001 or something?”

Unable to help herself, Willam let out a peal of laughter. “Shut up, cunt. Let’s hit the road, Jack, before Bianca comes back to yell at us for being late.”

With the five girls all assembled, they began to make their way to the lift. Sharon looked every inch the confident, successful politician in her smart dress, expensive black coat, shining, polished patent heels and perfect makeup. However, inside Willam knew she would be terrified, and that in turn terrified her. As much as she still didn’t have a huge amount of faith in Sharon, she hoped and prayed she wouldn’t fuck up. As they were about to step into the lift, Willam felt a sudden tug on the sleeve of her coat. Turning round, she saw Adore looking a little nervous.

“Willam,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the comms team anxiously. “Could you…would you mind asking Laila to text me back?”

Giving her a quick look up and down, Willam could tell Adore was serious.

“Don’t tell me you’ve developed feelings for this girl? Because this could be a minefield, Adore. If you get into a relationship with her and put one foot out of line, our party’s going to be all over the papers like a pissing puppy,” she warned her sternly. Adore seemed to already have considered this, and tugged down the sleeves of her plaid shirt over her knuckles.

“I know what I’m getting myself into. Just…ask her, okay?”

With that, Adore turned on the heels of her clunky black boots and walked back to her desk, her face hiding any trace of the conversation ever having happened. Still slightly thrown, Willam walked into the lift just as the doors closed behind her.

“Great timing,” Courtney quipped as Willam quickly fixed her hair in the mirror.

What was happening to the office, Willam wondered. Katya and Trixie were all loved up, Alaska appeared to want to fuck her boss, and now Adore was trying to make things serious with a journalist, of all people.

At least she could say that she’d never get herself into something as ridiculous as a workplace relationship. Especially not with Courtney Act.

***

Sitting at the sidelines and watching Sharon’s interview with Laila wrap up, Willam breathed a huge sigh of relief. It had gone well, really well actually. From the moment Sharon had walked in and greeted the young journalist, it was clear that Laila was somewhat in awe of her and the interview had seemed more like a friendly chat if anything. No matter how well it had gone though, it hadn’t stopped Courtney panicking and she’d sat and picked at the split ends in her hair for the entire hour, completely tense. Alaska had sat enraptured by the entire thing, her elbows resting on her knees and her head resting in her hands as she listened to Sharon talk. Jinkx, on the other hand, had slowly made her way through the entire plate of biscuits The Independent had provided them, seemingly not the least bit bothered whether Sharon succeeded or failed.

Willam couldn’t really see how it could be that this tiny, purple-haired girl nervously interviewing Sharon would be ignoring texts from Adore until she went up and spoke to her as they were all leaving.

“Laila.”

“Willam, right?” she smiled, holding out an overly-formal hand for her to shake. Willam took it tentatively.

“Um, yeah. How did you-”

“Oh, honey, I work in journalism. We make it our business to know everything about anyone who’s anyone, or who knows anyone who’s anyone even remotely,” Laila reeled off cryptically.

“Well, you’re out of luck with me. I’m never going to be the story,” Willam laughed, trying to get one up on the girl who she inexplicably felt had undermined her. Laila simply rolled her eyes in response.

“They all say that,” she smiled, as if she was in on some sort of joke. “But you know what Mister Andy Warhol said. Everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame. Maybe you just haven’t had yours yet.”

There was something about Laila’s sweet smile that made her seem harmless, but her words were somewhat ominous to Willam. Unsettled, she decided to relay the message as soon as she could and then get the hell out of the building.

“Anyway, I just came over to say that Adore wants you to text her back. Clearly she’s not in any way bothered about sounding desperate,” she added at the end as she inwardly despaired of the junior comms officer. Laila shook her head and gave a funny sort of laugh.

“Tell her I’ll think about it,” she smiled flirtatiously as she sauntered away, as if she’d been talking to Adore herself. Cursing herself for allowing herself to be intimidated by some fresh-out-the-womb bitch, Willam quickly caught the other girls up in the car.

Interview number two and the accompanying photoshoot was less perfect. Sharon had the detriment of being interviewed by the infamous Fame, who asked her a lot more hard-hitting questions. Sharon gave as good as she got and fired back counterattacking statements, facts and figures as the four other girls sat and watched the verbal tennis match that was unfolding in front of them. Still, the photoshoot went a little better and Sharon seemed pretty confident in front of the camera. If Willam was feeling generous she would even say that the minister looked good, but it was already half past one and she’d still not had any lunch so to say she was feeling irritable was putting it mildly. With a curt nod and a handshake from Fame, they were out of the building and into the car to the next interview; Sharon squashed between Courtney and Alaska, and Willam and Jinkx sitting opposite them. With a groan, Sharon immediately pulled off her heels.

“Your feet better be clean,” Willam tuned her nose up. “This is supposed to be a cabinet minister’s car, not a hotbox of stank.”

“Lay off, okay? These heels are just hard to break in. Fuck, I’m exhausted,” Sharon sighed, tipping her head to the side and resting it on Alaska’s shoulder. Willam watched as Alaska’s eyes grew momentarily huge, then as she stayed painfully still as if Sharon was a little bird or butterfly that she didn’t want to scare away.

“Jinkx,” Courtney asked as she leant forward in her seat and furrowed her brow. “Any word on who’s doing this interview?”

“I only know what Bianca’s told us, I’m afraid. When I know, you’ll know,” Jinkx replied lazily, scrolling through her work phone with boredom. Irritated, Willam scowled at her.

“Jinkx, what actually is your job title? Communications officer with the society for the fucking deaf, blind and dumb?”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll send a few texts,” Jinkx rolled her eyes, beginning to tap at her phone.

“She’s going to send a few texts. Wow, some really fucking groundbreaking stuff there, folks!”

“Will you guys stop with the bickering?” Courtney hissed, slamming her folder on her knees for emphasis. “We’ve still got ten minutes in this car, I’d really love for us all to arrive at The Daily Mail without any limbs having been hacked off.”

There was a frosty silence in the car as it rumbled along the streets of London, every so often getting caught in the inevitable traffic and being crowded up in between huge, double-decker buses and black cabs. Willam was worried. Bianca usually knew by now who was conducting the interview and the fact that she apparently didn’t yet, or had just neglected to tell them, wasn’t good.

After a few minutes in which the silence was only broken by the rumble of the car’s engine, Jinkx spoke again.

“Huh. That’s interesting.”

All four of the others turned to face Jinkx, who was looking at her phone quizzically. Obviously taking their concerned faces as a prompt, she continued talking.

“The interview is with…Shangela La’Quifa Wadely?”

The silence continued, only this time everyone’s faces became somewhat more crumpled up.

“Ring any bells with anyone?” Jinkx asked tentatively.

Willam was stumped. She had been expecting perhaps Delta, and had been bracing herself for a rocky interview at best, but she had never heard of this Shangela girl before. She must have been new on the scene, which was a worry because now they had no idea what to make of how this interview would go.

“Whoever she is, I’m sure the interview will go amazingly,” Courtney eventually smiled, her optimism and positivity making Willam worry a little less.

Eventually arriving at the offices of The Daily Mail, they were ushered through various corridors by a receptionist who was clearly rushed off her feet. She deposited them in some form of lobby and told them that Shangela would be with them in a few minutes, and after that they were left on their own. Trying to get her bearings, Willam took in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that everything was eerily pink. The odd sofa-slash-bench things they were sitting on were pink, the carpet was a light pink, the walls looked like something in Barbie’s dream house. It was as if they’d turned up to be interviewed by Delores Umbridge. As each minute passed, Willam became less and less able to take her surroundings seriously.

“How the hell is this the décor in a newspaper office? I feel like I’m sitting inside a womb,” she eventually said, not without a generous helping of disgust.

“Well, Bianca did say it was an online piece. Maybe they’re more lax about their offices in the web department?” Alaska shrugged, scrutinizing the furniture around them.

Something about it still wasn’t sitting right with Willam. However, she barely had time to think too much about it as a bright, bubbly woman emerged from a pink corridor to greet them. She was wearing a short, blue shirt dress which complimented her dark skin and glossy brown hair, and her makeup was perfect. This girl seemed miles away from the journalists Willam knew, most of them all usually hungover or still sporting their makeup from the night before or bad-tempered. The girl introduced herself as Shangela and showed them all through to another eerily pink room, but this time set up and equipped for an interview, another girl getting various things ready inside. To Willam’s delight, there was a sandwich platter sat on a table at the back of the room. Reaching for a plate, she began piling them up on top of each other, Courtney about to copy her until she found that every single one of the sandwiches had mayonnaise on them.

“We’ll order Chinese when we get back to the department,” Willam comforted her, seeing her dismayed face. Cheering up, Courtney flashed her a wide smile, although it had an undertone of nervousness to it which Willam spotted right away. “Hey. This’ll go fine, okay?”

“I know. I’m just nervous, Willam. I’ve been to the web offices before, we both have, when we were with Darienne. This looks like we’re in the wrong place,” Courtney whispered, tugging on a lock of hair.

“Yeah, well, maybe Alaska’s right. Maybe this is just an extension or another section of the offices or something. We’ll definitely be in the web department, even if it looks like the inside of Tinkerbell’s vagina. Sharon will be okay, don’t worry,” Willam gave Courtney a brave smile.

“You’re always so good at calming me down,” Courtney smiled back somewhat apologetically. “Thanks, Willam.”

Before Willam could even open her mouth to reply, Courtney had sat down on the ridiculously pink sofa beside Alaska and Jinkx, waiting for the interview to begin. All appetite suddenly gone, Willam replaced the plate of sandwiches on the table and joined Courtney on the sofa. She was so warm and her fluffy pink sweater was so soft, and Willam had to fight the urge to cuddle up to her.

The room was cold, that was all. Willam thought they could at least switch on a damn heater in the middle of October.

She watched as Shangela sat down in the chair opposite Sharon, the random girl who was clearly her assistant handing her a bottle of water, her notes and her recorder.

“So we’ll just get straight into it and we’ll edit bits out and together as necessary, okay?” Shangela smiled at Sharon, who nodded a little nervously and shifted in her seat. Picking up her recorder, Shangela pressed a single button and sat back in her seat. “Interview with Sharon Needles, commencing at 15.07 on the 14th of October, 2016. Hi Sharon, it’s so good to have you with us today!”

“It’s good to be here, Shangela, I’m just excited to show your readers what I’m about and what they can expect from the party with me as head of the department of social affairs and citizenship,” Sharon reeled off, smiling pleasantly back at her.

This was a good start. Shangela seemed cheerful enough, relatable and happy and keen to present Sharon in a good light.

“I have to say, I’m absolutely loving this dress you have on, Sharon. Can you tell me a little bit about it, why did you choose that particular dress today?” Shangela asked, leaning forward in her seat.

Willam furrowed her brow. This wasn’t exactly ideal- Sharon was here to talk policy, not the contents of her fucking walk-in wardrobe. Reminding herself that these sorts of questions were unfortunately expected if you were a woman working in politics, Willam tried to relax. This was just one stupid question about fashion to try and endear her to the female electorate, she was sure Shangela meant well. Sharon looked somewhat like a deer in the headlights as she cast a quick glance to her advisors sitting on the sofa. Willam nodded rapidly and enthusiastically, circling her hand in a bit to move Sharon along.

“Um, well it’s black and white. And…it’s got magpies on it. And I chose it because I liked it and I needed to look smart for work, I guess?” she shrugged, smoothing down her dress self-consciously.

“It’s gorgeous. Where did you pick it up?”

“Um…from the hanger in my wardrobe?” Sharon laughed awkwardly, glancing again to the girls on the sofa. “I’m sorry I don’t, um…?”

Shangela laughed with her, slightly falsely, Willam noted. That tight feeling in her stomach returned again, and she willed Shangela to start asking her about Sharon’s actual job sooner rather than later.

“I have to say, Sharon, you’ve got a great sense of humour, some great style- the guys must be falling over each other to snap you up! Tell me, is there a man in your life at the moment?” Shangela continued, reaching for her water bottle. Sharon’s mouth dropped open a little bit, something between a laugh and a cough coming out. She looked clearly offended, and if she was being honest Willam didn’t blame her. The archaic questions were beginning to wear thin, and Sharon was obviously keen to start talking about what she was actually there for, instead of all this faff. 

“Well, I’m not interested in men at all actually, so no,” Sharon replied curtly, her face completely unimpressed and her upper lip curled. There were two ticks of silence where it was Shangela’s turn to look offended, and Willam didn’t dare turn her head to gauge the reactions of the other girls. Shuffling through her notes, Shangela continued, the false smile back on her face again.

“So, you’re a woman in politics- a lesbian woman in politics-” Shangela corrected herself, adding in the extra word as if it was somehow relevant to what she was about to ask her. “Are there any other woman around Westminster whose style you’re particularly jealous of at the moment? Or indeed, anyone that you’ve got your eye on?”

Sharon raised both her eyebrows and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth very deliberately, as if she was considering what she was about to say. “I don’t really know how this is relevant at all, to be quite honest. Can we move on?”

Willam jumped as Courtney’s hand flew out and grabbed her wrist, her nails almost digging into the skin. Glancing quickly at her, Willam saw that Courtney’s face looked absolutely terrified, like she’d just been thrown off a ski jump blindfold.

“It’s okay, she’s got this,” Willam whispered to her, Courtney nodding ever so slightly but still not releasing her grip on Willam’s arm.

She could live with that, even if it was starting to cut off the blood circulation to her hand.

“Of course, no problem,” Shangela nodded, glancing at Sharon through narrowed eyes and looking once more at her notes. Soon enough the fake smile was back on her face. “So, as a cabinet minister, you’re obviously in a position where you’re sometimes out of the department working all day.”

Delighted that Shangela had finally deviated from asking her such pointless questions, Sharon immediately launched into an answer.

“I’m so glad you brought that up because just today I had an interview with The Independent, where we spoke about my targets over my time in office. I want to make sure that the party is-”

“Ah, so even today you’ve been on the go!” Shangela cut her off, and Willam thought she couldn’t sound more patronising if she’d tried. “So when you find you’ve got a day like this, what sort of things do you keep in your handbag to make sure you can confidently go about your work and slay whilst doing it?”

Sharon looked momentarily as if she’d been slapped. Ignoring the question, she turned to directly face the girls, and Courtney’s nails dug into Willam’s skin once more.

“Is this interview definitely with The Daily Mail or for a 1950’s edition of Cosmopolitan?” she laughed, her eyes dark. Willam heard Alaska suck in an enormous breath of air between her teeth. Courtney froze. Jinkx looked like she hadn’t a clue what to say. Willam was rarely stuck for how to react, but even she was lost for words. Shangela was looking at her assistant with wide eyes, as if she didn’t know either.

“Miss Needles, these questions are simply designed to appeal to the female electorate and help portray you in a favourable, relatable light,” Shangela explained through gritted teeth.

“Well, here. Start maybe by not dumbing them down so much and assuming that the only way they can understand politics is through the finer points of my fucking washing basket,” Sharon snapped, standing up from the chair and grabbing her bag decisively. “Ladies, come on. I’m not hugely interested in giving these people any more of my time.”

“Oh my God I feel like I’ve just been pushed out of a plane,” Courtney whispered breathlessly, frozen to the sofa.

“Sharon, maybe Shangela has some different questions-” Willam began, desperately trying to placate both the minister and Shangela. Already the journalist’s face was scheming, as if she knew what headline she was going to run already.

“Fuck that, I’m not staying here! If I wanted to sit through half an hour of painful misogyny I could just go and stand outside a building site wearing fishnets and a push-up bra. Let’s fuck off out of here,” Sharon spat, wrenching open the door. Dutifully, Willam stood up and followed her, Courtney not once letting go of her wrist. She couldn’t see Alaska’s face, but somehow she already knew it would be similar to her own. As Sharon stormed through the offices and back outside like a tornado, Willam started thinking less about that diabolical interview and more about how they were going to firefight the inevitable aftermath.

Finally outside, Sharon took a deep breath as the other girls watched her nervously.

“Jinkx, phone the driver please and tell him if he’s not here in the next two minutes I’m going to cut off his face and go as him to the office Christmas party,” she finally blurted out, still clearly angry and shaken by the interview.

“I’ll, um. I’ll maybe just tell him to be as quick as he can,” Jinkx reasoned, shuffling off to a quieter stretch of the street to make the phonecall.

“What the flying pelican fuck was that?!” Sharon cried, staring at the three advisors with incredulity. “Did we time travel? Are we suddenly in the 1950’s? Christ, I thought that these days they’d at least be subtle about sexist bullshit like this, but no!”

“You know you’ve just massively fucked up, right? You can’t just storm out of an interview like that and expect it not to be all over the front pages tomorrow. You’re not any better at just learning to keep your mouth shut now than you were eight years ago, are you?” Willam snapped. Courtney was upset and in Willam’s view Sharon was the one that had made her upset, so therefore Sharon was getting all of her blame right now, not that airhead journalist. 

“So I was just supposed to sit there and answer all that crap like a good little Stepford politician?! For fuck’s sake, Willam, do you understand just how patronising all of those questions were?”

“Sharon’s right,” Alaska spoke up slowly. “To sit through an interview like that would’ve portrayed her as someone that’s never going to be of any threat in Westminster whatsoever. This is going to paint her as someone that should be taken seriously, someone that doesn’t mess about.”

Upon hearing Alaska’s words Sharon seemed to calm down by a good 50%, and smiled at Alaska gratefully. Alaska blushed and looked to the ground. Willam couldn’t help but roll her eyes. This was absolute madness, and she couldn’t be the only one that was terrified at how the fallout of this would affect Sharon’s position in the party. Giving up on both of them, she turned her attentions instead to Courtney, who was sitting alone on the steps leading up to The Daily Mail’s offices.

“Court,” Willam murmured as she sat down beside her. “You okay?”

Courtney sat up slowly, taking a deep breath as she tried to calm herself down. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Christ, I’ve been through some stresses in this job but that was just…a new level. I’ve never seen anything like that before. She’s going to get slaughtered by them, Willam. What are we going to do?”

Without thinking, Willam put her arm around Courtney’s shoulders, pulling her in close in an attempt to help her relax. “We’ll do what we always do, sweetie. We get out our turntables and spin fuck out of this entire situation. And you’re going to be the best at it out of us all. You’re sensible and logical and level-headed, and you’re going to be an asset to us this afternoon. And probably this evening, to be honest. I doubt this is all going to be sorted in a matter of hours.”

Willam’s heart hammered as Courtney looked up to her, her eyes wide and unblinking and so beautifully grey that Willam briefly lost her breath. She was so gorgeous and her lips were parted very slightly and if Willam tilted her head down just the tiniest bit she could probably kiss her if she wanted to.

She didn’t want to, of course. But the option was there.

Willam’s gaze was averted from Courtney’s eyes by a sleek, black car pulling up on the road in front of them.

“Sharon, the car!” Willam yelled up the steps, standing up and taking Courtney’s hand.

“This’ll all be okay, right, Willam?” Courtney asked, squeezing Willam’s hand tentatively.

“Hey. We’re the dream team, remember? This’ll be easy,” Willam smiled, stepping into the car and praying inwardly that she was right.

*** 

It was front page of The Daily Mail’s main website in a matter of hours.

“EXCLUSIVE: AS SHARON NEEDLES WAVES HER SEXUALITY IN OUR FACES AND STORMS OUT OF INTERVIEW, WE SAY…PLUG THAT DYKE!”

“Wow. I knew they were sensationalist, but I didn’t realise they’d be quite so flippant about plastering a slur all over their website like that,” Jinkx said awkwardly, as the other girls sat open-mouthed in front of their own monitors.

“I…actually cannot believe they published this,” Courtney whispered, clearly in shock.

Willam couldn’t believe it either. She knew that the world hadn’t suddenly been cured of all bigotry just because it was 2016, but she was amazed that they’d managed to get away with something quite so blatantly homophobic.

“Is Sharon okay…?” she spoke up, casting an eye to the glass office where Sharon appeared to have her head in her hands. Immediately, Alaska sprang up from her seat.

“I’ll go talk to her,” she said, already halfway across the office on her way to Sharon’s door.

Even Bianca was silent, perched at Courtney’s desk like a bird of prey. She’d practically lain in wait for them at the office, somehow already aware of what had gone on at The Daily Mail, and had given that one single blood vein on her forehead a good exercise as she yelled at Sharon until she was purple-faced. It turned out that with a simple Google search, Shangela La’Quifa Wadely could be identified as the editor-in-chief of Femail, the Daily Mail’s online section devoted entirely to women. Willam couldn’t even summon the energy to be mad at Jinkx. If she was being honest, knowing the segment of the website they were doing an interview for beforehand wouldn’t really have changed the situation. The questions would still have been ridiculous, like some mad parody of a TV show created 60 years ago, and Sharon still would’ve probably not wanted to answer them.

Once Bianca had finished incinerating them all, she had worked together with Sharon and the advisors to sort out a line. The dilemma soon became clear; did Sharon come out and address this as an important issue to be tackled, or was that going to make too much noise for a minister who’d only been a week in office? Courtney had been enthusiastically pushing the pro-feminist stance, googling those This Is What A Feminist Looks Like t-shirts before the cons of the argument could even be established. Willam had been wary of it herself, scared of the dangers something like that could pose.

“You could really split the electorate with this, Sharon. You know what the public are like, half of them still see the word ‘feminist’ and they’re sharpening their pitchforks before you can even explain what the word actually means. It’s risky,” she’d mused, biting on the end of her pen. She’d looked up at Bianca, about to ask her what she’d thought when Jinkx had yelled that The Daily Mail had the story up on their website, and they had all dashed to their monitors to check. 

Most of them were still staring at the headline in shock.

“Bianca,” Willam said, quietly but not so that she couldn’t hear. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Bianca was deep in thought for a few seconds, then suddenly she sprang up from Courtney’s desk, thundering across the floor. “Okay, this is what we’re going to run with! The amount of homophobia in the British media is rife, and today it has reared its ugly head. Call for condemnation of The Daily Mail, set fire to their houses, fucking eat their children, I don’t care! But just let everyone know that if they even so much as try to make Sharon look like the bad guy in this situation, then they’ll have me to answer to!”

Willam immediately took to her phone, opening up her list of contacts and settling first on Dida at The Telegraph. Maybe Courtney had been right, maybe Bianca was a fan of Sharon after all. She’d never seen her get quite so defensive over one of her ministers before, but then again that headline had been disgusting and she wasn’t surprised that Bianca was enraged. As Alaska dashed out of Sharon’s office and hit the phone, Willam found herself hoping that Sharon was alright. Just because she still wasn’t sold about her as a minister didn’t mean she had any right to put up with shit like that from any news outlet.

A series of conversations and constantly ringing phones later and Willam still hadn’t reached the halfway point in her list of contacts, or was even a quarter of the way through. Her throat was bone dry from repeating the same thing over and over again, and from the looks of it everyone in the office felt the same. Even Bianca seemed to be at risk of carpal tunnel from the force at which she was typing things into her phone. It had reached almost five o’clock and it didn’t appear as if the newspapers were going to let up, or indeed if any of them were going to be heading home anytime soon. So when Jinkx’s phone rang for what seemed to be the thousandth time, nobody paid any attention at first. That was until she ran over to Bianca.

“Bianca! Bianca, this is important!” Jinkx hissed, the phone cord stretching to inhuman proportions as Jinkx leant over to where Bianca stood. “I’ve got Chad Michaels on the phone.”

There was suddenly a moment where everyone in the department held their breath, then immediately made their excuses to whoever they were on the phone to and hung up.

“Sharon, get out here!” Bianca yelled into Sharon’s office. Obviously bracing herself for more bad news, Sharon trudged out of her office, her face holding a brave smile despite the defeat in her eyes.

“What’s the development, then? Is The Sun’s front page tomorrow just a huge portrait picture of me with the word FAGGOT in capital letters and size 72 font?” she joked despairingly. Alaska was the first to speak, clearly excited at the prospect of cheering Sharon up.

“No, Sharon, this is good! Jinkx has Chad Michaels on the phone!” she whispered, as if she was conscious that Chad could hear them through the phone.

“What?!”

“Yes! She’s in my hand right now! Apparently she admired your stance against the sexism that’s still so rife in politics, and she wants you on the six o’clock news to discuss it with her!” Jinkx beamed, the phone still pressed to her chest.

Sharon’s entire face immediately changed, her face first shocked, then sort of confused, and then finally relieved happiness as she struggled to get her words out. “Tell her I’ll be there!”

“Sharon, are you sure this is a good-”

“Tell her I’ll fucking be there, before she hangs up! Oh my God, Chad Michaels. I’m going to be interviewed by Chad Michaels, fuck!” Sharon squealed excitedly, spontaneously crushing Alaska in a tight hug. 

Willam couldn’t help but smile fondly at Sharon. She was clearly happy, excited at the prospect of turning the day around. Part of her was apprehensive about the fact she was about to be interviewed by Chad Michaels, though. To compare Chad to somebody else would be foolish- she was incomparable, a standalone figure in the world of journalism, the Nelson’s Column of interviewers. To be interviewed by her was a bit like being asked for an audience with the queen.

“Right, we need to do a lot of things very quickly. Courtney, you need to phone for the car to Broadcasting House. Willam, locate some makeup and spruce this bitch up a bit, yes? Alaska, you’re going to go with Sharon to the interview, start grabbing any notes you can get your hands on, anything relevant. Trixie! Katya! Violet! I want you ladies to start phoning anyone and everyone you know, I don’t care if it’s Raja Gemini or Ellen DeGeneres’ cat. Get some fucking hype going around this, this is big, this is the splash we want to be making! Oh, and Adore!” Bianca finished, looking Adore dead in the eye and consequently making her look as if she’d wet her pants.

“Yes, Bianca?” she asked, terrified.

“…get me a fucking Fanta.”

***

The tension and excitement were palpable in the air as Willam, Courtney, Bianca and the entire comms team all sat huddled round the huge LCD TV in the corner of the offices. Willam’s stomach felt as if it was an atrium full of butterflies. If Sharon pulled this off, this would be amazing for her career. If she crashed and burned, she may as well just resign now.

“What time is it?” asked Courtney, her voice absolutely riddled with nerves.

“Five fifty-nine,” said Katya, looking up at Courtney from her space on the floor beside the sofa. “Do you want me to do a countdown?”

“What is this, a fucking space exploration? I just want us all to sit and look at the fucking TV and shut up until Sharon’s home and dry, is that too much to ask?” Bianca cut in, clearly unimpressed by how chilled out Katya was. Put out, Katya instead cuddled close to Trixie and rested her head on her shoulder.

For a moment Willam was jealous of them both, jealous of what they had. She sometimes wanted someone to curl up to if she was tired and someone to go home with at the end of the day because despite how much she tried to argue otherwise, she did fleetingly get lonely. Her studio flat often seemed like a giant hen coop and perhaps it was the tiny enclosed space that worsened the feeling, but sometimes it was hard pretending she was such a stone-cold bitch all of the time. It was hard working all day with someone like Courtney and knowing that she was so beautiful and kind and intelligent and such a ray of sunshine and that she could be snapped up at any moment by any fucking ridiculous guy that wanted her, and that shouldn’t bother her, fuck, why did it bother her?

Willam was wrenched out of her increasingly spiralling thought process by Adore hitting her shoulder repeatedly. In a daze, Willam’s eyes focussed on the TV screen where the all too familiar “pips” of the BBC news at six began to play. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, even Bianca.

Dun-dun. “Desperate for shelter- as the refugee crisis worsens, the BBC asks how much longer is the Prime Minister going to ignore it?”

Dun-dun. “Could house prices be getting worse instead of better? Chi-Chi Devayne finds out if you should be selling up or staying put.”

Dun-dun. Willam sat bolt upright in her seat as a huge, blown-up screengrab of the Daily Mail article filled the screen, backed with the recording of Sharon’s interview in which she walked out. “And, is Britain’s treatment of women only going backwards? In the wake of her interview with The Daily Mail, Minister for the Department of social affairs and citizenship Sharon Needles talks to Chad Michaels about why this should serve as a wake-up call to journalists across the country.”

As the intro began to play and Chad was revealed sitting in front of her desk, Willam still wasn’t able to relax. Sharon probably wouldn’t be on for another fifteen minutes, but that wasn’t going to stop her worrying. Looking up at Bianca, she saw that she was looking at her phone grave-faced.

“Bianca. Any word from Alaska?”

Snapping her head up from the screen, Bianca gave some semblance of a reassuring glance. “Just got a text from her there. She says that Sharon’s raring to go, already met Chad and they got on like a house on fire. She says it’s very unlikely that we have anything to worry about.”

“Great, so am I good to go home now?” Jinkx asked, lazily lifting her head up from the huge cushions of the sofa. Bianca only had to fix her with a withering glance and her head was immediately back down again.

Turning her head around from the item on the TV, Violet suddenly spoke up. “So, why hasn’t the PM actually spoke out about the refugee crisis anyway?”

Seemingly glad for a distraction, Bianca sighed. “It’s not without me trying. I’ve practically been on my hands and knees begging to get him to say something, anything, I don’t know. Even a whisper that sounds something vaguely like “refugees” but could actually just have been him saying “cheese” would be better than nothing. At least we could turn that into a fucking soundbite.”

“Surely he can’t stay silent forever?” Trixie snorted, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Well, until he does speak I’m going to have to use all these fucking ministers as sock puppets for the things I want him to say. This is why I’m hoping this interview is going to go well, so that when Sharon is finished she’s going to be so well-loved by the public that they’ll hang off her every word. Hopefully by the time this interview ends, the PM will just be fucking redundant.”

“Shhhhh! Guys!” Courtney hissed, flapping one hand excitedly at the TV screen and holding on tightly to Willam’s arm with the other.

Fuck, why did she need to do that?

“…joined by secretary of state for the department of social affairs and citizenship, Sharon Needles. Miss Needles, welcome,” Chad smiled at her, her face genuine and warm and making Willam want to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hi Chad, it’s good to be here,” Sharon smiled back. She seemed at ease and pretty relaxed. Alaska clearly hadn’t been bullshitting them.

“So, obviously today you’ve been subject to a lot of scrutiny, certainly online. Could you perhaps explain what happened to our viewers who may not know what it was that occurred?”

“Of course,” Sharon nodded, leaning forward a little in her seat. “I was basically given an interview by a journalist at The Daily Mail, which I thought would be covering my career and my policies and short term and long term goals- you know, stuff like that.”

Chad nodded sagely from her chair.

“It turned out- I didn’t know this at the time- but it turned out that the story was for the section of the website targeted at women. What basically happened was the journalist was asking me questions that I didn’t think were in any way relevant to my status as a politician, as a secretary of state, as a minister.”

“What sort of questions were those?” Chad asked, obviously knowing full well.

“Things such as what I kept in my handbag, if I was jealous of any other women in Westminster, if I had a boyfriend- that sort of thing,” Sharon explained, laughing a little. Chad smiled.

“Now obviously, we’re laughing but it’s an incredibly prevalent issue in the UK media at the moment- the underlying, often subtle sexism in the media directed to female politicians,” Chad frowned, Sharon animatedly sitting up in her chair and beginning to speak before Chad had even asked her a question.

“Well absolutely, and often it’s very unsubtle too! For example, the sort of language The Sun used when they wrote about Nina Flowers after it emerged that she wouldn’t stand in the by-election as she had suffered a miscarriage. Also a lot of the opposition’s leadership contest was shambolic in that sense as well. There were three women in the running so obviously every paper referred to it as a catfight, in fact The Star photoshopped the heads of all three candidates onto cats?” Sharon ranted, Chad just letting her speak and nodding repeatedly throughout. “Oh and lest we forget that infamous line from Phi Phi O’Hara; that Manila Luzon shouldn’t be the next leader of the opposition because she dresses like a blind ape throwing clothes around in a Primark. It’s really quite disheartening, Chad.”

“Absolutely, and all very relevant and indeed current examples you gave there,” Chad agreed enthusiastically. “So what sort of effect does this then have on women in politics- in fact, let me revise that. What sort of effect does this then have on women in general?”

Sharon paused to think over the question. “Well, the main issue I have is how this will affect kids. The way that boys will think it’s okay to talk about girls, the way that girls will think it’s okay to talk about each other. I mean, that entire opposition leadership contest was a chance to show the country the finest example of intelligent, strong women, and to see it reduced to a mud-slinging contest over who had the best hair and makeup was really quite insulting to what the Suffragettes fought and died for. It might put off women who want to enter into politics if they see the way they run the risk of being talked about by both the media and other politicians alike in such a disparaging manner which has nothing to do with their policies at all.”

Chad nodded understandingly before asking the next question. “So going forward then- what would you personally like to see done to tackle this sort of behaviour from the media?”

“Well, I’d like a great big hamper and an apology from the Daily Mail,” Sharon joked, earning a genuine laugh from Chad. “No, in all seriousness, I’d just like them to think about what language they use. Today for example, the wording of that headline was just…it actually did leave me lost for words because it was a homophobic slur used in plain view of the public. A lot of the problem with the way things are reported is the language used to report them, so just that little bit more scrutiny can go a long way. This isn’t even just an issue exclusive to sexism, often there’s so much language that’s shockingly racist or homophobic too. Another thing I think everyone in politics could do is call media outlets out about things like this. I’m not saying women from opposing parties suddenly have to be the best of friends but if you notice someone else getting spoke about in such a way that is degrading to women, even just fire off a simple tweet about it. Stuff like that gets noticed and if we all act together, it will eventually combat this kind of reporting in the media.”

Chad smiled and gave a sort of conclusive nod. “Sharon Needles- thank you.”

Courtney almost leapt out of her chair with excitement. “Guys! That went so well! That couldn’t have gone any better at all! Don’t you think, Bianca?”

“She was certainly very eloquent. And she managed to smear the opposition without even noticing, I think. A win on both counts in my book,” Bianca gave a rare genuine smile, now immediately on her phone. Looking up, she nodded to everyone. “Right, my work here is done and so, I guess, is yours. You can all fuck off home if you like.”

Shrugging, Bianca turned around and made her way out of the department. Saying a quick goodbye Jinkx, Adore and Violet all left to pack up their things too, leaving Trixie, Katya, Courtney and Willam all huddled around the TV. For a moment they were all silent, too tired or relieved to even speak. After a few seconds, Trixie broke the silence.

“Right. Pub?”

***

The bar was dimly lit, hues of red from the filtered lights giving a small amount of illumination to the corner that the girls had curled up in. Katya and Trixie were on the sofa against the wall, Trixie’s arm slung around her girlfriend’s skinny frame. Katya kept stifling yawns, indicating that she was flagging after their stressful day. Courtney was their polar opposite, re-telling the story of Sharon’s interview with Shangela animatedly and waving her arms about frantically. Alaska had joined them and she was sat on the other sofa beside Willam, smiling with amusement at Courtney’s tipsy story-telling. Trannika sounded as if her lungs were about to give out from laughter, her whiskey swaying dangerously in her grip.

Trannika was actually alright, Willam mused. She was a little bit crazy in a weirdly deadpan way, a sort of middle-ground between Trixie and Katya. She’d greeted Willam warmly enough, the two only having spoken briefly before tonight. Maybe Courtney had been right; Trannika just seemed like a standard working girl just trying to make it through to the weekend, who incidentally seemed pretty comfortable bitching about her boss and her other colleagues.

As Courtney finished off her story, Trannika took a long sip of her drink and leant back in her chair. “Good for Sharon. The Daily Mail needs taking down a peg or two anyway, I’ve always thought they’re the journalistic equivalent of a shart on a commuter train.”

Willam let out a yelp of laughter at Trannika’s unique turn of phrase. Katya almost slid off the sofa laughing. Trannika’s harshly contoured nose wrinkled up, pleased with the reaction she’d had. Almost immediately afterwards her face grew scheming, as if she had some gossip.

“Between us girls, though-” she whispered, looking briefly around the bar to see if anyone else was listening. “- I would look out for your boss. Phi Phi is shook. She was not happy with Sharon’s little dig at her in that interview and I feel like there might be some sort of storm brewing.”

Willam and Courtney shared a brief, concerned glance. Turning to Alaska, Willam noticed that she looked fearful and had reached out to grab Trannika’s arm.

“Wait, what’s she planning?” Alaska asked, clearly nervous. Trannika simply raised her eyebrows, picking up her whiskey and swirling it around in her hand.

“Well heck, girl! I’d be damned if I know, do you think they tell me anything? Do they tell you anything?” she turned to Katya and Trixie, questioning her ruling party counterparts. Trixie let out a derisive laugh as an answer while Katya gave a sleepy shake of her head, clearly a hair’s breadth away from sleep or death (Willam couldn’t tell which). Satisfied with their answer, Trannika simply cast a hand to Willam’s two colleagues and held it there as if she was a pageant queen, pulling a little double chin after a few seconds.

“If you hear anything though, Trannika,” Courtney insisted, knitting her brows together. Her friend simply cut her off before she could finish.

“Of course I’ll let you know. I am, after all, the ruling party’s unofficial corporate spy- Jane Bondage.”

Katya and Trixie clapped and Trannika did a little bow. Willam was still troubled by what Trannika had told them, though. If the opposition did have a plan things probably weren’t looking good for the week ahead, least of all if Betty was behind it. Even if she was known as “the less savage Bianca”, Betty was cunning and sly and could wreak some severe havoc across the party. Having been the party’s spin doctor for some years now, she knew every trick in the book and paired with Phi Phi, her scheming advisors and Bob (Jinkx’s opposite number), there certainly could be some amount of shitstorm brewing.

In any event, Willam was glad that the news didn’t seem to be bothering Courtney who was giggling away in between long sips of her drink. She was always so much more relaxed when she was drunk, the alcohol helping her lose some of that all-consuming control she felt she had to have all the time at work. Willam wished she didn’t worry so often, wished that she was more calm and happy, but crippling stress was sometimes a side-effect of the job.

Some form of compere had taken to the “stage” beside the bar (a single dim halogen light, a microphone and one speaker) and was announcing the start of an open mic night. Trannika’s face lit up excitedly as she leapt up from her chair, only to be immediately shoved back down again by Trixie.

“For the millionth time, you’re not doing an acoustic cover of Jai Ho,” she said with a long-suffering shake of her head. Turning to Courtney, Trixie perked up a little. “Court, you down to do Oceans?”

Willam gave Courtney an inquisitive glance. In all the time she’d known her, she had no idea she could sing.

“I don’t know, Trix,” Courtney smiled bashfully. “It’s busier than usual tonight, you know?”

“Don’t be silly, come on! We’ll do it once that guy’s finished. I’ll borrow his guitar,” Trixie insisted as a scraggy sort of guy with a long beard took to the spotlight.

“My name is Alex, and this one is called Wonderwall.”

Willam’s entire table groaned.

“Fuck me in the ass sideways. I’m going for a cigarette,” Katya announced, hurriedly escaping the bar.

“I’ll join you,” Willam shrugged, the prospect of social smoking preferable to sitting through the inevitable dirge that was to come.

Bursting the door open and gasping a little as the cold air hit her bare arms, Willam leant against the cold brick wall and sighed deeply. Lighting up, Katya looked at her with a funny sort of smile.

“What?” Willam asked.

“Nothing. Just wondering when you’re planning on telling Court about that huge teen girl crush you have on her.”

Willam’s insides dropped about 50 metres to the ground. Was it really that obvious? No- no, it couldn’t be obvious, because her so-called crush didn’t exist. What gave Katya the right? She was jumping to stupid conclusions and just because she and Trixie were happy together didn’t mean that love was all around them like some fucking Wet, Wet, Wet song. Keeping her face blank, Willam simply looked Katya in the eyes.

“The crush that doesn’t exist? Yeah I’m telling her tomorrow, we’ve got an appointment at 4.”

“Willam, come on. You think I don’t recognise that behaviour? You look at her like you want to protect her. You care about her more than anyone else on the planet, you’re never sarcastic with her- hell, that was a huge giveaway in itself. Whenever anything goes down at work, you’re the first to make sure she’s okay. Just admit it. You’ll feel better.”

“Katya, I know it might be hard for you to get your head round. I know you can barely see because of the fuckin’ hearts blocking the way of your pupils. I’m not interested in Courtney,” Willam snapped. For a second, she regretted it. Katya was clearly only trying to help, but what exactly was she going to do? Willam wasn’t about to ruin things with Courtney or ruin the atmosphere in the workplace by admitting that- wait, admitting what? There was nothing to admit.

Smirking, Katya stubbed out her cigarette on the wall and dropped it to the ground. “Keep telling yourself that.”

As she walked back inside, Willam instead tipped her head back against the cold, damp bricks and exhaled shakily. She was doing fine on her own. She didn’t need anyone, but the more Willam thought about it the more she considered the differences between need and want. Every thought she had seemed to be followed up by Katya’s voice, now warped and mocking in her head. Keep telling yourself that. Tearing a hand through her hair Willam looked up to the dark sky, feeling momentarily like she wanted to pray.

Instead, she turned and walked back inside the bar.

Returning to her seat, she found Alaska, Katya and Trannika all looking at the stage excitedly. Sure enough, Trixie was standing with her guitar and Courtney was in front of the microphone, her nerves having sobered her up a bit. Trixie began playing the first few chords of the song and Courtney took a deep breath, preparing herself to sing. As she began the line she looked over to where Willam sat, staring her right in the eyes. Willam felt as though she was momentarily paralysed, unable to tear her gaze from Courtney’s perfectly made-up face illuminated under the light of the stage.

“Happier than I was before, I’m hoping now you’re here I’m able to handle it…”

Snapping her gaze to the floor, Willam felt around the table for her vodka and coke and gripped it with one white-knuckled hand. Feeling her heart race inside her chest and wiping the sweat away from one hand on her leggings, two things became clearer to Willam than ever before.

Katya was right, and she was completely fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In this, we meet the opposition, learn a little about Sharon’s past, and hear a whole range of new insults from Bianca._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _As ever if u want to chat to me about all things Game-related, hit me up via my tumblr artificialortega xo_

Casting her eyes over the meeting room, Willam attempted to focus on what Sharon was actually saying. She was trying her hardest, she really was, but it was just that Courtney was wearing the blue jumper today, the really soft one that made her look more cuddly and adorable than normal. 

Willam had a crush on Courtney. She’d accepted that now. The way to deal with it was just to never act upon it, talk about it, or to admit it to anyone outside of her own head. She’d spent so long cultivating the perfect stone-cold, heartless bitch image and she wasn’t exactly going to do anything to taint that now. The most important thing she had to remember was that she didn’t need anyone- she had no desire to be in a relationship, to be tied down and have to answer to someone else all the time. She had a perfectly good bullet to get her off and if she felt like it she could always go and pick up someone random from a bar. There was always that irritating aspect when the afterglow had faded, though, if whoever she’d used for the night wanted to stay over, or heaven forbid see her again. Things were just better as they were, Willam concluded. She couldn’t get attached, or hurt, or fall in love this way. If there was one thing she wasn’t, it was vulnerable. Getting into a relationship with someone put you in the weakest position you could possibly get.

Still, she was allowed to dream about it; an ideal world in which love worked out the way it did in books and movies, one huge cliché where Willam and Courtney were happy together and lived in perfect domesticity, had the best sex of their lives and went on adorable dates. It was simplistic and shallow and completely unrealistic, but perhaps that was all it was meant to be. 

Gazing at Courtney again, she was surprised to see her eyes already on her. She was even more surprised when she looked around the room and saw that everyone else was staring at her as well.

“Willam?” Sharon asked, staring at her expectantly. She stood in front of a huge whiteboard with marker pen scribbled all over it- generic buzzwords such as “connectivity”, “inclusivity” and “interactive” sprang out to her, but nothing really indicated what Sharon could have previously been talking about.

“Um. The fiscal year?” Willam guessed blankly. Alaska laughed from across the table, throwing her head back and letting her blonde hair cascade down the back of the chair. Sharon didn’t find it as funny.

“For Christ’s sake, Willam, this policy is only going to work if everyone pays attention and has some form of input other than just staring at me with glassy eyes like they’ve been fucking taxidermied!” she sighed, sitting her pen down on the table and sliding into an empty chair. Willam felt a pang of guilt- Sharon had been doing well in the two weeks that had followed her Michaels interview and had received heaps of public support and attention. The perfect time, Bianca had insisted, to get some new ideas out there and into parliament.

“Sorry. Remind me of the premise?”

Irritated, Sharon rolled her eyes before Courtney cut in with a sweet smile. “It’s a scheme to get the UK to house more refugees and get them into work, thus boosting the economy, diversifying the nation and basically making us look like good guys to the rest of Europe.”

Willam shot her a grateful smile across the table, trying her best not to blush.

“Thank fuck someone’s been listening,” Sharon smirked. “We’re basically just trying to come up with a name for it. Or a tagline or something.”

Willam pressed her pen to her lips, thinking for a second. Jinkx suddenly piped up from beside her.

“What about…Don’t be bigoted. Be uninhibited,” she said, her suggestion met with utter silence from the rest of the group.

“Well that was nice, Jinkx, but how about something a bit less…” Sharon thought for a second, trying to find the correct word.

“Shit?” Willam shrugged, Alaska once again letting out a peal of laughter. Courtney was clearly trying to conceal her giggles from the other side of the huge table, while both Jinkx and Sharon looked unimpressed.

“Do you have any better suggestions?”

“No, and I’m not going to pretend I do! Far better that than me just yelling out any old crap like I’ve got shit idea Tourette’s and polluting the room with verbal diarrhoea,” Willam shrugged, Alaska now bent over in her chair from laughter and Courtney now audibly giggling. Willam couldn’t tell, but she could have sworn Sharon let out the tiniest snort of a laugh before regaining composure.

“Ladies, please, this is important! This is a good fucking idea, if I’m allowed to blow my own trumpet, and we’ve got to get it out there sooner rather than later,” she insisted. A loud, harsh vibration from Jinkx’s phone startled them all.

“Bianca’s here,” she announced, trying to keep her tone bright. Before the girls even had time to react to the news, Bianca had appeared in the room in a smart, tailored black and white suit.

“Good morning to you all, the shit Spice Girls impersonation act,” she smiled cheerfully.

“Morning, Bianca,” Courtney smiled back bravely, Willam instantly wanting to tell her that Bianca didn’t seem to be here to roast them all into a crisp and that she’d be okay.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sharon quipped dryly, lounging back in her seat.

“Two things from me,” Bianca began, ignoring the Minister’s sarcasm. “The shadow minister’s visit, today at 11. They’re going to be talking to Jinkx and the rest of those brain-dead, civil-service puppets out there about what’s going to happen if they take office. Jinkx, your job is to basically communicate to them that they’ll be taking it out of my cold, dead hands.”

“Is that today?!” Courtney exclaimed somewhat involuntarily, earning her a steely glare from Bianca which in turn made Courtney look as if she was seconds away from death. Reaching into her pocket and retrieving her phone, Willam fired off a quick text to Courtney under the table.

_W: it’s okay. snakes only eat once every few weeks x_

As Bianca briefed Jinkx, Willam watched as Courtney looked down into her lap and smiled, a light blush colouring her cheeks very slightly, although that could have just been the light of the room. Satisfied that she’d made Courtney feel better, she tuned back in to what Bianca was saying.

“…you tell them nothing. Except where the toilets are, but you lie about that.”

“So who’s actually accompanying Phi Phi today? I’ve heard nothing and I want to make sure I’m relatively prepared for whoever enters my department,” Sharon folded her arms across her chest, already defensive.

“You already know about Phi Phi. Privately educated daddy’s girl and massively out of touch with the electorate. Probably a lizard wearing a human skin suit, I’ve never particularly wanted to get close enough to her to check if that theory’s true,” Bianca shrugged. “The other two coming with her are going to be her advisors, Detox and Roxxxy.”

“Oh no,” Alaska suddenly exclaimed from her chair. Her face had gone incredibly ashen, her eyes wide and fearful. Suddenly Willam was acutely away that she no longer had only Courtney to worry about. If Alaska’s old colleagues and friends bumped into her it wouldn’t be particularly pleasant, and Alaska would no doubt be incredibly shaken.

“Oh yes. Detox Icunt, terrible surname, impressive credentials. Graduated from Oxford University with a first class degree and a PhD in Politics and Business. Won the World Universities Debating Championships five consecutive times. She’s loud, clever, and has zero scruples. Knows every loophole in the world of politics,” Bianca reeled off. Sharon raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed.

“She sounds interesting.”

“Don’t even make contact with her, she’ll probably have you telling her the fucking nuke codes and all the department’s discrepancies within the first 30 seconds of meeting her. Roxxxy Andrews is a different story,” Bianca frowned. “Not too good when it comes to actual political knowledge. Jinkx, you and her would get along. She’s a baby really, not been in the game long. Graduated from Oxford- Oxford Brookes, that is. Second class degree in Psychology and Sociology. Do not think for a second that this is a reason to underestimate her. She is cunning and sly and knows everything about everyone, don’t let her see you break a sweat.”

Sharon looked momentarily terrified. “I didn’t realise Phi Phi had some kind of metahuman task force working for her.”

“They’re not that bad,” Willam sighed, tipping her head back in her chair. “If you talk to Phi Phi entirely in cockney rhyming slang, she’ll just combust. Detox is fine if you give her a fake smile or two. Roxxxy is basically simple. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Sharon.”

Feeling the mood in the room change, Willam turned around in her wheely chair and was met with Bianca’s icy stare.

“What part of ‘don’t underestimate these people’ do you not understand? What, you think they’re here for a jolly little chat with Jinkx about worker’s rights and office hours? They’re here to get intel, and I want you all to be more airtight than some middle-aged white woman’s Tupperware. And no, that’s not a euphemism.”

Willam watched as Courtney wrinkled up her nose in distaste. She had such a cute little nose, and Willam found herself imagining how perfect it would be to just kiss it gently before they both drifted off to sleep together in a little house that they shared.

Frowning involuntarily, Willam chased those particular thoughts out of her head. They were way too intense, too weird and commitment-y for her friend she had a stupid crush on. Remembering what Bianca had said earlier, she turned and faced her.

“What was the other thing? You said you had two things to tell us.”

“I’m getting there! Right, Sharon, I’ve got you a good photo op this evening. Some new charging point for electric car owners, it’s going to be the biggest one in the UK and a big step for climate change, yadda yadda yadda. We’re going to get you driving in a fucking Prius or something, charging it up and then driving out again. Pretty simple, but effective- what? What is it?”

Every head in the room turned to face Sharon, who looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Her hands were gripping the edge of the table, her knuckles white. She’d turned pale- well, paler than usual- and she seemed worried.

“Driving? No, I can’t drive, there’s no way,” she babbled, her usually calm, composed exterior completely destroyed.

“Sharon?” Alaska prompted quietly, clearly concerned. Willam shared a brief look of confusion with Courtney. It was clear nobody had the faintest idea what was going on.

“I mean, you can drive. We have your drivers’ license, you sent in a photocopy as proof of identification when you received Darienne’s job. I don’t really see the issue here?” Bianca curled her top lip, completely unfazed by Sharon’s behaviour.

“Bianca, you don’t understand…I’ve not driven in ages, I…do you not-”

“Do I not what?” Bianca cut in, her irritation mounting by the second. “Look, I don’t really have time to stand here and argue the toss. This is part of your job. You’re doing the goddamn photo op. Christ, this was the girl who two weeks ago was desperate to get on prime time television. Now you’re shitting your pants at the thought of driving a bloody battery operated car. Get it done. 6 o’clock tonight. See you all later.”

As Bianca click-clacked out of the department, the mood in the room was still very tense. Almost frozen, Willam thought, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up from goosebumps. Alaska was the first to speak.

“Sharon, are you okay?” she almost whispered, her voice both deafening and quiet in the silent room. There were a few seconds (minutes?) where there was no response at all, in fact Willam was almost convinced that nobody even breathed. Finally, Sharon spoke.

“Yep. All good. So, um, if you ladies can continue thinking up some form of line or title we can use or something while you’re finishing off that immigration data, and Jinkx if you can just forward me the protocol for Phi Phi’s visit again so I can read over it then that would be great,” she said, her body almost frozen in place and her face wearing a fake smile.

Deciding not to push it any further, Willam simply nodded and walked back to her desk. It wasn’t long before Courtney was following behind, rolling her own wheely chair along to sit beside her.

“What do you think all that was about?” she whispered, leaning her elbows on Willam’s desk expectantly. Willam couldn’t help but stifle a laugh- Courtney could be such a gossip and it was one of the things that was oddly endearing about her. Trying not to be too taken in by her perfume and parted pink lips, she instead threw up her defences again and rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, Court. To be honest, it’s not my place to ask. It’s not yours either,” she chastised softly, hitting Courtney gently on the nose with her pen. Wrinkling her nose and pulling away, Courtney shrugged.

“You’re right, I know. Still, she was pretty rattled. I hope she’s okay,” Courtney frowned, nibbling on her bottom lip. “What if it’s a family thing? What if something happened in her past involving a car, and she’s being forced into this PR shoot and she’s scared and frightened? Oh, God.”

Willam watched as she began to tap her feet against the floor nervously and became more anxious by the second. Cutting her off, she lurched out and took Courtney’s hand in hers.

“Why do you worry so much?” she asked quietly, looking her in the eyes. Nervous, Courtney cast her eyes to the floor which made Willam feel as if she’d said the wrong thing, until she realised that Courtney hadn’t pulled her hand away.

“It’s just my thing, I guess. I’ve always worried, been that way ever since I was little. My mum used to call me a worrier,” Courtney laughed quietly, her eyes still trained on the carpet. Finally meeting Willam’s eyes, she continued. “I don’t know…do you ever get scared that some things have just come to be expected of you? Like if you try and change things, you’ll lose who you are as a person and won’t know where to begin rebuilding yourself?”

Attempting to process what Courtney had just said, Willam fell quiet. She must have taken that second too long to answer, however, as a bright pink blush shot over Courtney’s cheeks.

“God, trust me to get all deep at 9.30 on a Wednesday morning! I’d, um. I’d better get back to work. Sorry, Willam,” she apologised, the pink that was colouring her face managing to grow brighter as she moved back across the room to her own desk.

Still trying to recover, Willam stared blankly at her computer screen. She had so many thoughts colliding in her mind that she wasn’t sure which one was more prominent. One overwhelming feeling was the want to protect Courtney- to listen to her talk and vent and let out everything that she was scared of. Clearly it was a lot. Courtney was such an amazing person, she didn’t deserve to be troubled by anything at all.

Another feeling that had begun to creep up on Willam was the fluttering in her stomach as she realised that Courtney had opened up to her. She’d trusted her enough to share her fears with her, given something fragile and precious to Willam in the hope she wouldn’t break it. Feeling her heart speed up, Willam fleetingly wondered if maybe the feelings she had for Courtney weren’t entirely one-sided.

And then reality brought her back down to earth with a bump, telling Willam what a ridiculous thought that was. Courtney saw Willam as a friend and a co-worker, and that was where her feelings ended. She couldn’t let herself get carried away or distracted with the idea that Courtney would ever treat her as anything more than what they already were.

Letting out a huge exhale of breath, Willam opened up the immigration spreadsheet and was about to start working when there was a thud of two elbows on the empty space to her left. Turning slowly in an attempt to conceal her flinching, she was met with Katya; head in her hands, blonde curls cascading over her shoulders and a huge, smug grin on her face.

“Don’t even say a word,” Willam warned her, clearly too late as Katya began sniggering a laugh behind her hands.

“I wasn’t actually here to gloat, but now you mention it…” Katya joked, lolling lazily against Willam’s desk. “So you’ve not admitted anything to anyone else. In fact, you’re probably maintaining the fact that there’s nothing to admit. But you’ve admitted it to yourself.”

“If you keep talking, I’m going to staple your mouth shut,” Willam glared, grabbing the stapler on her desk for emphasis. It didn’t seem to intimidate Katya at all, who was still grinning manically and completely unfazed.

“Hey, like I said! Not here to gloat at all. Just thought you might like to know that Pearl texted me this a couple minutes ago.”

With that, Katya produced her phone and held it out to Willam so that she could read the screen.

_P: ahahaha yeah. Trannika with the fuckin bodyshots man!! Don’t actually know how she made it in today. Also, confirmed 100% Phi Phi’s looking for stuff to take Shazza down with bc she’s still pissed about that dig in the Michaels interview. watch ur back xo_

Attempting to ignore whatever conversation that had been going on before, Willam focussed on the important information. She wished she could say she was surprised by the shadow minister’s plan but in all honesty, she’d highly expected it. Sighing, Willam handed Katya’s phone back.

“I mean, I’m not too worried. What can she possibly dig up? Sharon will’ve been vetted by Bianca already,” she shrugged, clicking on a single cell of the spreadsheet half-heartedly.

“She got pizza delivered to the office last week?”

“That’s not even- Katya. Come on,” Willam raised one eyebrow in disbelief. “The papers would be hard pressed to conjure up a paragraph on that. Sharon will be fine.”

Appearing to be satisfied, Katya pushed herself off the desk and made to return to her seat, but not before turning back to Willam with the same smug look on her face as before.

“You know, I don’t think anyone in the office could’ve missed that blush on Courtney’s face just there. Whatever you’re feeling, I don’t think it’s as one-sided as you think,” she smirked, making sure to keep her voice low. Unsure of what to reply, Willam simply narrowed her eyes, picked up her stapler and clicked it twice. Chuckling, Katya sauntered back to her desk.

Trying not to even entertain the thought that Courtney could like her back, Willam continued with her work. All of the numbers suddenly seemed scrambled and jumbled up, making no sense to her whatsoever. Feeling as if she was about to scream, she instead made to ask Alaska for advice until she noticed her desk was empty. Come to think of it, Alaska hadn’t actually left the meeting room with her and Courtney. Bullshit if she was getting away with doing shit all while Willam worked on this entire set of figures. Getting up and smoothing her skirt down, she made her way to the meeting room, only to find it empty. Puzzled, she began to walk slightly aimlessly down the corridor, her curiosity piqued at the disappearance of both Alaska and Sharon. It was unlike Alaska to just wander off without telling either Willam or Courtney where she was going.

Reaching the photocopier and a dead end with no Alaska in sight, Willam was about to give up and ask Jinkx for help instead when she heard two sets of muffled voices coming from the stationery cupboard. 

“I’m just panicking, I know. But I feel like I have good reason to. I mean, it’s going to be absolute carnage if this gets out.”

“It won’t, don’t worry. I still can’t believe Bianca missed that when she vetted you. But please don’t panic, it’ll all be fine. I’ll speak to Jinkx and I’ll get her to quietly cancel it.”

Sharon and Alaska. What the fuck were they in the stationery cupboard for, and most importantly, what were they talking about? Whatever it was, it sounded serious. If it was serious business, Willam deserved to know. Making to burst open the door in a show of outrage, she stopped herself when Sharon’s voice spoke again.

“I just feel like such a failure. I should’ve known it would get out, I should’ve said something-”

“You are not a failure,” Alaska’s voice cut in urgently. There was an odd sort of pause in which Willam wasn’t quite sure what was happening. “You’re a good person, Sharon. You’re the best thing to happen to this department since I arrived.”

Soft laughter, then Alaska’s voice again. “You’re amazing. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Another pause. Willam couldn’t quite bring herself to move, somehow feeling as if she shouldn’t be hearing this at all. Composing herself, she rested her hand on the door handle.

“Alaska I…this might seem inappropriate, but-”

“Okay, what the hell is going on in here?” Willam demanded as she flung open the door and revealed herself. Both girls seemed to jump back a bit, Sharon looking to the floor awkwardly and rubbing the back of her neck, Alaska’s mouth forming a perfect circle as her jaw dropped in shock. They had both gone bright red, which Willam thought was odd for two colleagues having a professional conversation.

“Christ, Willam, you scared the crap out of me,” Sharon breathed out raggedly, her voice spooked but holding an underlying note of irritation.

“I don’t give a fuck, you haven’t answered my question. What were you talking about? What’s going to be carnage?” Willam replied, keeping her glare cold. Sharon kept her eyes trained on the floor, not seeming to want to look up anytime soon. Alaska still hadn’t spoken.

“Close the door,” Sharon said finally, sounding a little shaken. Feeling the wind slightly knocked out of her sails, Willam did as she was told and watched as Sharon steadied herself on the shelf and sat on an unopened box.

“Um. Do you remember I kind of went off grid after uni? A lot of people were asking after me and couldn’t really find me.”

With a pang of guilt, Willam’s first reaction was that she hadn’t really cared. She’d been glad to see the back of Sharon, if she was honest. Times had changed, though, so Willam simply nodded instead. Sharon wrung her hands together, her face completely racked with nerves.

“I wasn’t in a good place. My mental health spiralled out of control pretty dramatically once I graduated, I struggled to find a job for a while and when I did, I had no motivation to actually go and work and make money. I didn’t really, um. I didn’t really have anyone to talk to about things. I tried going to therapy but it just wouldn’t help. It felt like I was making progress just being able to know that I was visiting someone, I guess. Anyway, you don’t need to know my sob story,” Sharon frowned, shaking her head repeatedly. “To cut a long story short, about a year after things started going wrong, drugs became involved. I had to drive into work, like, an hour after a binge. Fuck, I was just all over the road, I could’ve killed someone-”

As Sharon’s voice broke slightly, Alaska crossed over to where she sat and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“The police pulled me over, thank fuck. I was so intoxicated I couldn’t even speak, I was practically asleep behind the wheel. They banned me from driving for eight years. That’s why I can’t do the PR thing. It’s illegal for me to drive.”

Leaning against the door, Willam felt she wanted to sit down too. This was so much to deal with. She couldn’t style herself out as not caring about this, because she actually felt sick to her stomach with guilt. She couldn’t believe Sharon had coped- or not coped- completely on her own through all this horrible mess. Even though there was no way she could have known, Willam just wished she could’ve done something differently. She desperately hoped Sharon was better now.

“Sharon, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. This isn’t about me being enormously fucking mental in the head,” she snorted a derisive laugh. “I’m more worried about how we’re going to placate Bianca. Alaska said she’d talk to Jinkx and get her to cancel it, but Bianca’s going to ask questions.”

“Well it’s not her fault she didn’t vet you properly,” Willam shrugged, how Bianca would feel the absolute last thing on her mind right now. “So she can damn well deal with it. How Bianca feels doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re okay.”

Sharon looked up at her, her face grateful but slightly taken aback at this raw show of compassion. Truthfully, Willam was slightly shocked herself. She was grateful for the shout that came from the hall suddenly.

“Willam? Guys? Are you all in there?” Courtney asked, as she opened the door and stepped inside the stationery cupboard that was ever-decreasing in space. Confused by the presence of her boss and the two other advisors, her perfect eyebrows became furrowed together. “Was there a meeting I didn’t know about?”

“Yeah, in the stationery cupboard. It was really important, didn’t you get the memo?” Alaska laughed affectionately. Laughing briefly at her own ridiculous assumption, Courtney then tentatively looked at everyone else again.

“So…why are we all here then?”

Willam briefly looked at Sharon, then sighed. “Sharon can’t do the PR stunt because legally, she’s not allowed to drive. She got done for driving under the influence seven years ago.”

Courtney’s mouth dropped open a little as if she was about to ask why, then shut again as she clearly decided against it. “Does Bianca know?”

Giving her an affectionate smile, Willam raised her eyebrows at her. “Court. Come on. Use your brain.”

“God, of course not. I’m so not on the ball today. So what’s happening?”

“Alaska’s telling Jinkx to cancel it and when Bianca finds out, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. What’s important here is Sharon,” Willam said decisively. Shocked again at the vulnerability she was showing, she smoothed down her black pencil skirt and sniffed once, trying to ignore just how close Courtney was. “So that’s settled. Can we all get out of this tiny-ass cupboard and do some damn work?”

Without speaking, the four girls filed out of the cupboard as if the conversation had never happened. Willam’s head was still slightly spinning as she slumped back in her chair, the excel spreadsheet now more confusing than ever. She was still attempting to take in everything that Sharon had just told her. It was so much to process, and Willam couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that was settling in the pit of her stomach, the feeling that maybe there was something she could have done to help all those years ago. Sighing, she cast her eyes to Sharon’s glass-fronted office where she was now typing into her phone, her face failing to betray anything about the heartfelt conversation that had just taken place. Why the hell did Sharon have to confide in her like that? Life would be so much less stressful if everybody just kept their guard up like Willam did. Still, she mused, everyone would probably be a whole lot more lonely. 

Suddenly, Willam’s phone screen lit up with three messages at once- two from Alaska, one from Courtney.

_A: I would love to, that sounds amazing (: we could go for sushi?? Wardour Street has some really nice places! Xxx_

_A: whoops wasn’t meant for you lol sorry_

Willam would probably have been about ten times more intrigued and curious about Alaska’s text if she didn’t have a text from Courtney awaiting her.

_C: I don’t care what kind of front you put up, you’re kind and caring and a total sweetheart x_

Not even daring to look up and risk meeting Courtney’s eyes, Willam reached for a piece of paper on her desk and began to fan the blush that had just flooded her cheeks. Trying her best not to think about what Katya had said earlier, she began to compose a reply.

_W: and you’ve always been a horrendous judge of character x_

Risking a peek up over her monitor, Willam watched as Courtney picked up her phone and giggled, covering her mouth with one perfectly manicured hand.

God, it was going to be a long day.

***

They had arrived.

Willam felt like a bird of prey as she stood beside Alaska and watched from above as Phi Phi and her two advisors were greeted by Jinkx in the lobby. Even from six floors up Willam could tell that Jinkx was hating the fact that she had to be, at the very least, civil to the three opposition members. Narrowing her eyes, Willam watched closer.

Phi Phi was using the tactic she employed every time she had a television interview; gushing about how happy she was to be here, playing the humble, meek elected representative of the people. She was wearing an immaculate navy pencil dress with a set of pearls, and her brown curls were piled on top of her head in a bun. Following dutifully behind her were two others. The first girl, Willam heard before she saw- a loud squawk of excitement at being in the building had been the very thing that proclaimed the arrival of the opposition. She was still making an obscene amount of noise which travelled up the floors of the lobby as if it was riding the elevator. Squawker- or Detox, Willam supposed she should call her- was equally well turned out. She gave off a clear professional vibe in her black suit trousers and ruffled white shirt, and her bleached blonde hair was curled and swept over one shoulder.

“Detox needs her roots done. See?” Willam whispered to Alaska, not taking her eyes off the three opposition members. Receiving no response, Willam turned to look at her friend. Alaska’s shoulders were tensed up as she trained her eyes on the last member of the opposition, Roxxxy. Her style was a little more flashy than her colleagues’ and she wore a royal blue pencil skirt teamed with a pink peplum top that was patterned with fake jewels down the front. Her long, dark hair had been immaculately styled and blow-dried, and Willam found herself wondering how or if she had the time to do that every day. Looking to Alaska again she found her brow furrowed, biting at her long, painted nails.

“Girl, please. You’re better than that,” Willam scolded, grabbing gently at Alaska’s wrist and pulling it away from her face. Alaska finally turned to meet her eyes before looking quickly back down at the floor again. “Hey. Talk to me.”

Sighing, Alaska leant against the balcony, watching as the opposition were led away to the lift. “Sorry. I know I’m not myself today. But this is really, really freaking me out. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve seen these girls since I crossed the floor, but to have them here where I work? It’s just a lot. It kind of feels violating, if that makes any sense?”

Willam nodded slowly. “I know you’re worried about it. But you’re being really brave about the whole thing. And hey, you kind of have an advantage, I guess. They’re on your territory, they’re not familiar or comfortable with anything here. Mainly because nothing’s engulfed by the flames of hell or costs over £10,000.”

Snorting a brief laugh, Alaska’s face grew somewhat blank again. “I mean. Their tanks are on our lawn, though.”

Rolling her eyes, Willam laughed derisively. “Alaska. These walking, talking foreskins are not going to take power. You live in this country at the moment, do you really think the public are going to vote for people like Phi Phi?”

“Well, the public are complete idiots.”

“Girl, you can’t say the entire nation are idiots.”

“Yes I can, I’ve met them,” Alaska deadpanned, signing off with a smile. Willam relaxed against the balcony, comforted by the fact that Alaska clearly felt a little better.

“Listen. One day. One day of smiling and nodding like a terrifying puppet and just taking whatever crap or snide comments or shade they throw at you. You’ve handled so much worse,” Willam smiled reassuringly, resting both hands on Alaska’s shoulders. Comforted, Alaska made to turn back to the department when suddenly she whipped her head back round.

“Willam,” she murmured. “What if they find out about Sharon?”

“What, that she exists? I know it was a crushing disappointment to us all but they’ll get over it some day.”

“No, you bitch! The license thing,” Alaska sighed in exasperation, raising her voice just a little.

Willam paused for a moment. It was weird how protective Alaska was of her boss. She was never like that with Darienne at all. Fair enough Sharon was far more competent but still, it wasn’t as if the two shared some deep personal connection or anything. Willam thought about asking her about it, but instead decided that that probably wasn’t what Alaska needed right at this very moment. 

“Who’s going to tell them? Me? You? Courtney? Sharon herself? Think, goddamn it. It’ll never get out,” Willam tapped the side of Alaska’s head once, punctuating her point. Smiling slightly, Alaska seemed to compose herself and took one deep breath. As if something had occurred to her, she let out a laugh.

“God, what’s happening to you, Willam? First you’re actually nice to Sharon and then you listen to me vent for ages. Your cracks are showing,” Alaska smiled. Willam attempted to style it out by shrugging, secretly a little unnerved that her recent empathy was being noticed.

“The only crack associated with me is the stuff I do on weekends. Let’s get back, bitch.”

No sooner had both girls turned the corner towards their office when they came face to face with the three members of the opposition coming out of the lift, Jinkx leading them. Alaska immediately froze in place, seemingly unable to move. Willam wanted to do something, anything to reassure her but before she could even look at Alaska, Detox’s dark hazel eyes met her own.

“Phi Phi,” she turned to her boss, staring Willam straight in the eye as she did so. “You go on ahead with Jinkx. Roxxxy and I are just going to have a little catch-up with a couple people we haven’t seen in a while.”

Willam wasn’t easily intimidated, and she swore that today would be no different. As Detox and Roxxxy advanced towards them, she drew her shoulders back and tilted her head, not giving a single thing away on her face. She could feel Alaska growing more and more timid beside her. Christ, if these girls were planning on giving her friend a hard time then they’d be leaving the department in an ambulance.

“Willam. Alaska! So good to see you both,” Detox began, her smile smug as she rested one nonchalant hand on her hip. “God, how long has it been? When was the last time we saw these two, Roxxxy?”

“Weren’t they the case study in the incapacity benefits debate a couple of weeks ago?” Roxxxy chimed in, flashing a quick, amused smile at her friend. Willam muffled a derisive laugh as she shook her head. She couldn’t quite believe the schoolyard bullshit that these adult women were trying to start in her department. Still, if this was the game they were playing, then Willam would play accordingly.

“Clever, implying that we’re both disabled and poor. Two things which your party finds no issue with laughing at. I love it,” Willam smiled sweetly, gently clapping her hands. Slightly shaken by her quick retort, Detox curled her top lip at her.

“Ladies, ladies. It’s just some classic cross-party fun, no harm meant by it. You know that, right, Alaska?” she flashed her a false smile. Willam watched as Alaska, shoulders now so hunched she was practically concave, gave a meek nod in response.

“You know we really miss you, Alaska,” Roxxxy nodded somberly. “Phi Phi’s always saying how open she’d be to having you back if you’d ever want to return. Detox and I miss you too. We miss our friend.”

With that, Roxxxy reached a hand out and touched Alaska’s arm gently. Flinching, Alaska finally met her former colleague’s eyes and gave a weak smile. Willam felt a flame of anger sting her veins as she watched the whole interaction. It was the same every time Alaska ran into these two- the guilt-tripping and sly remarks would begin and would continue relentlessly until Detox and Roxxxy left, leaving Alaska a husk of her former self. It was disgusting the way they would intimidate her, and it meant that Willam and Courtney were always left to pick up Alaska’s broken pieces and make sure she was repaired back into some semblance of her former self. Fuelled by her anger and severe dislike of the two girls in front of her, Willam snorted sardonically.

“Friend? Please. You’d both backstab Judas for an Oreo cookie. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to work. But this has been lovely,” Willam flashed her bright white teeth in a smile, which Detox returned equally as insincerely. “I haven’t had the conversational equivalent of hepatitis C in a long time.”

“As always, Willam, you’re a very funny lady,” Detox gave a tight-lipped smile as she stepped to one side and cleared a path down the corridor for the two girls. Hooking her arm through Alaska’s, Willam began to leave, and had taken roughly three steps when she sing-songed her retort over her shoulder.

“I’ve got a lot of jokes, but none as good as your boss!”

Still fuelled from the rage coursing through her veins, Willam steered Alaska the rest of the way down the hall and into the small kitchen like a demented steam train. It was only after she flicked the switch on the kettle so hard she thought she might have broken it when Alaska spoke.

“I know they annoy you, sweetie, but don’t be too hard on them.”

“Don’t be too…Alaska! They were standing there making you feel like a sack of shit, I wasn’t going to sit back and let them rip you to shreds! God, I can’t believe you’re defending them,” Willam cried, grabbing two mugs and two teabags so hard she felt they might crumble apart in her hands. Silent for only a moment, Alaska began playing with the edge of a tea towel, deep in thought.

“They were my friends once though. Who knows, maybe…maybe they were being serious. Maybe they do want to be friends again.”

As the kettle reached boiling point, Willam took one deep, calming breath and began pouring them cups of tea. Part of her hated the way that she’d been conditioned into going straight to the kettle when something was angering or upsetting either her or her friends, as if a ridiculous hot drink was going to help make things any better. Vodka, now that would go some way to really help the situation. If Willam and Alaska shared a 75cl bottle, they’d be able to get so wasted that those idiots from the opposition wouldn’t bother them anymore. The bottle would also be ideal for smashing over Detox’s smug botoxed face. Too bad Alaska didn’t drink, Willam mused, as she handed the taller girl a steaming hot mug of tea. As Alaska gave a grateful smile and began to sip, Willam found herself wishing she could knock some sense into her. One of Alaska’s biggest strengths could very feasibly be her biggest weakness; her determination to always focus on the good in people, to ignore their flaws and instead choose to look at their positives. It was something that made Alaska such a horrendous judge of character. Christ, she’d worked for the opposition for a year, after all.

Casting another glance at her friend and deciding she’d visibly gained back a little of her confidence, Willam grabbed her own mug off the countertop.

“Right, come on,” she said decisively. “We’re going to go back to our desks and drink these up and get on with our damn work, because these snakes that have infested the department don’t change a single thing about how capable you are as a professional. Okay?”

With a stifled smile Alaska led the way back to the office, leaving Willam wondering if she could still maintain the bitchy façade she always presented to the world if she was getting this good at cheering people up.

***

Sadly for Willam, that wasn’t the only encounter she had to suffer with the opposition that day. Phi Phi soon appeared in the department’s offices with Jinkx, almost as a grand finale to the tour of Dosac she’d been given so far. She watched with narrowed eyes as Phi Phi made her way from desk to desk of the comms team, shaking hands and smiling in a sickeningly sweet manner that made Willam want to hurl. Detox and Roxxxy hovered behind Phi Phi’s shoulders like little cartoon devils and angels, except in Willam’s opinion both of them were the living, breathing embodiment of Satan.

Attempting to ignore the gatecrashers in her office, Willam turned back to her monitor. She supposed that both Detox and Roxxxy were pleasant people. Maybe even Phi Phi at a push. They could still be fun and friendly people to hang out with; after all, the politics they followed didn’t define them. Suddenly remembering the obvious exception, Hitler, Willam sent another withering glare the opposition’s way. Hit with another pang of doubt, she reasoned that comparing Phi Phi O’Hara to Hitler was a mild overreaction. Willam just found it difficult to see anything positive about anyone who came from the party that essentially made one of her best friend’s lives hell with rumours and smears for months after she’d crossed the floor. Looking back, she couldn’t believe she’d believed half of them; that Alaska had left because she’d slept with Roxxxy’s boyfriend, that Alaska was dismissed from the opposition because she was addicted to cocaine, that Alaska had each and every sexually transmitted infection under the sun. Shuddering a little, Willam felt like a bad friend for ever doubting her. She supposed she was making up for it now, though, in how fiercely she was defending Alaska. Casting her eyes across the desks in front of her, Willam’s gaze rested on Courtney, her brow furrowed in concentration and her delicate fingers tapping away at her keyboard. Willam found herself having to swallow down the butterflies that had suddenly taken over her insides. God help those bitches if they ever fucked with Courtney.

Tuning out of the immigration stats that sat in front of her, Willam instead found herself listening in to the conversation between Phi Phi and Jinkx.

“The space here is lovely. Very professional, very focused. There’s maybe about twenty-five percent that I’m not okay with, though. I’d much prefer isolation booths for everybody to work in- it’ll keep everyone more on task,” Phi Phi asserted, Willam noticing out the corner of her eye how Katya and Trixie both recoiled in horror at the thought of not being able to chat and keep each other going throughout the day.

“Okay, so you’d prefer isolation booths in addition to the longer working hours of 8.30am til 7pm, and only half an hour for lunch,” Jinkx confirmed. Her hair was twice as big and frizzy as it usually was, probably as a result of tearing half of it out in frustration after the amount of hours she’d spent with Phi Phi.

“Christ, does she want us chained to the phones as well?” Adore mumbled. Willam immediately tensed up- if she had heard that comment, then Phi Phi definitely had too. Sure enough, Phi Phi whipped her head round and stared Adore straight in the eye.

“That’s very funny of you, but no. I would not be chaining people to phones, I would simply be employing popular and common tactics that are used by employers the world over. Something which you wouldn’t have to worry about, because I wouldn’t have you working for me,” she barked, her voice getting more and more irritable as she reached the end of her sentence.

Willam found herself praying that the opposition would never reach any position of power whatsoever if they were going to have this banshee running the department. Adore had slunk down into her wheely chair, as if trying to make herself invisible. Suddenly, Willam heard Sharon’s office door open behind her.

“What the holy shit fuck is going on out here?” she muttered as she reached Willam’s desk, looking straight at the visitors to the department. Glad of an opportunity to relieve the tension, Jinkx once again plastered the fake smile on her face.

“Minister, may I introduce your opposite number, Shadow Minister Phi Phi O’Hara,” she smiled at Sharon, waving a hand at Phi Phi as if she was unveiling a booby prize on a game show.

It was interesting to watch how the two women regarded each other. Phi Phi immediately narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips together in a display of agitation at no longer being the highest authority in the room. She made no show of moving to shake Sharon’s hand, in fact she didn’t appear to want to speak to Sharon at all. Instead, Sharon herself made the first move and stepped forward once, twice, finally reaching a safe distance and holding out a hand for Phi Phi to shake. Her face was placid and gave nothing away. Almost Sleeping Beauty-esque, Willam thought.

“Phi Phi, it’s so good to finally meet you properly,” she smiled calmly as Phi Phi gingerly took her hand to shake. “I hope you and your team have had a good day in the department?”

“Oh, yes. It’s been lovely, although obviously there are numerous things that will need changed once we get into power!” Phi Phi gave a fake little laugh, her eyes still hostile.

“Well. If,” Sharon crinkled her nose in a smile, which Phi Phi returned sourly.

Willam was suddenly distracted by a buzz from her phone. Katya.

_K: Christ there’s more fake smiles in here than the outpatients’ at a fucking plastic surgery_

If Willam had been in the mood she probably would have been howling with laughter, but the tense, uncomfortable conversation was still taking place.

“I found it interesting that you chose to highlight my disagreement with Manila Luzon in your interview with Chad Michaels. I felt it slightly undermined your point about the need to raise other women in politics up when you yourself were clearly intent on taking me down,” Phi Phi continued to smiled falsely, the bitter undertone to her words not going unnoticed by Willam. Sharon kept calm, smiling lazily back and raising her eyes to the ceiling.

“Oh, I don’t know about undermining my point. In order to make a good argument, you have to present some evidence to back it up, and that’s all I was doing. I’m sure you understand it was nothing personal,” she said, giving a little nod.

Phi Phi flared her nostrils, her face now unimpressed as she swept a hand through her hair, making her bun even messier. “Well. It was lovely to meet you anyway, Sharon, but I still have numerous issues to talk through with Jinkx. If you’ll excuse me.”

With that, Phi Phi turned on her heel, not even bothering to wait for a reply. On her way back to Jinkx, she stopped to murmur something in Detox’s ear, which then resulted in Detox marching round the corner. Willam could have followed her up, but was too distracted by Sharon coming to hover at her desk.

“Numerous issues? I’ll bet she has numerous fucking issues, fuck me. Let’s hope that lot never get into power, she’s more unhinged than a flat pack IKEA cupboard,” Sharon whispered, causing Willam to splutter a laugh. Sharon smirked at her reaction, then her face grew suddenly serious. “Did you know if Jinkx managed to get that photo op cancelled?”

“She did it about half an hour after we spoke. Alaska really got on her back about it, so it was pretty impossible for Jinkx to wriggle out of it,” Willam explained offhandedly, trying in vain to focus on her work. Looking up, she noticed that Sharon seemed to have a faraway look on her face.

“She’s so good, isn’t she? Alaska. She’s just incredible,” Sharon said quietly to no-one in particular. Confused, Willam simply nodded. Apparently remembering where she was, Sharon cleared her throat, smoothed her skirt down and returned to her office.

Around ten minutes later, Willam thought she was making some real headway with the persisting immigration data. That was until she almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand come crashing down on her shoulder. Spinning round rapidly in her wheely chair, she was shocked to see Bianca looming above her, her face grave as her eyes met Willam’s.

“Bianca, holy fuck. I nearly wet myself there,” Willam sighed, Bianca not even cracking a smile as her grip on Willam’s shoulder tightened and she escorted her out of the room. Willam’s stomach churned as she was led out into the corridor. What the fuck was happening, or what the fuck had happened, or what the fuck was about to happen?

The bright white light of the corridor contrasted violently with Bianca’s expression, which was the personification of the wrath of God itself. She was silent for a moment, which prompted Willam to tentatively speak first.

“So, um. Why did you want to see-”

“I want to know why a certain Sasha Belle over at transport now has the very same PR stunt I very nearly passed a kidney stone to secure for Sharon,” Bianca snapped. Her voice was cold and low, and Willam felt goosebumps prickle over her skin just hearing her speak. She felt conflicted. Half of her wanted to reveal Sharon’s personal reasons for having backed out; it was a legitimate excuse and might even make Bianca feel some form of remorse, God willing. On the other hand, it was a part of Sharon’s life which Willam was sure she wanted to leave behind, and if more and more people knew about it, well. That would make it increasingly hard to forget. Biting her lip, she tried to tell a white lie.

“She had personal reasons for backing out, Bianca. We decided as her team of advisors that it would be best if she didn’t go through with it.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what deeply held personal fucking reasons she had against it, it is her JOB to go to photo ops, it is her JOB to give herself media coverage!”

“Well she couldn’t! Even if you wanted her to!” Willam found herself blurting out, her voice echoing slightly in the hallway. Bianca raised her eyebrows a little, as if urging Willam to go on. Slightly regretting having not simply kept her mouth shut, Willam continued.

“Sharon has an eight year driving ban for driving under the influence of drugs. So even if she wanted to do the damn publicity, she couldn’t,” she explained, sighing as Bianca’s face slowly took on a look of realisation. “I don’t know how you didn’t already know this, Bianca. I thought you did background checks on everyone that came within a five mile radius of the party.”

Bianca exhaled loudly, slowly running one hand down her face. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it, then opened it again.

“When I asked you about Sharon, it wasn’t just a casual, out-of-interest enquiry. We were seriously fucking desperate. We had nothing on her, nothing on her at all apart from the fact that we knew she had a degree in politics and she’d been around the stock exchange for years. We were just desperate to get Darienne out of the party and stop the fucking spiral of madness she was driving us all down. Her position had become toxic, Willam, nobody we approached about the job would touch it! So we needed somebody unknown, someone who wouldn’t know or understand who she was succeeding. That’s why we failed to do intensive background checks. I mean, we established that Sharon hadn’t murdered or stabbed anyone, for Christ’s sake. But everything else we had to skip over. We couldn’t have had Darienne in her job for any longer, it would have just- it would have just killed the party.”

Willam could sort of understand where Bianca was coming from. Taking a calming breath, she suddenly felt the panic rise up in her throat again. “But Bianca, if this gets to the papers-”

Bianca cut her off, holding a single hand up in front of her face and looking down the corridor with suspicion. Wordlessly, she walked to the double doors at the end of the corridor and wrenched them open. Behind them stood Detox, who jumped at the sudden movement.

“Oh. Hello Bianca. I was just trying to find the toilets. This department is like a damn labyrinth, you know?” she stammered, almost paralysed under Bianca’s glare.

“Do you want a massive cup to press against this too, or are you good?” she quipped dryly, knocking against the door once.

Willam’s heart began to palpitate nervously. Detox had clearly been listening for quite some time. How long, she didn’t know. But if she’d heard the reason why Sharon couldn’t drive, this was all different kinds, shades and flavours of bad.

“Bianca, really. All I heard was that Sharon wasn’t exactly vetted properly. Which, you know, could be kind of a big story in itself, I think,” Detox smiled cunningly. All at once, Willam wanted to laugh. Attempting to get the upper hand on Bianca del Rio was an interesting tactic, one which basically ensured you weren’t going to win. Deciding to step back, Willam let Bianca take the reins.

“Oh, I see. You were looking for a story! Well here, here’s a great one for you,” Bianca smiled sinisterly, putting Willam in mind of a predator about to pounce. “Did you know that Sharon Needles is sitting in office there with a massive big driving ban to her name, for swerving all around the roads jacked up on speed and weed and allsorts? Did you not know that?”

Willam watched as Detox’s face lit up. She had to admit, she didn’t really know where Bianca was going with this, or what she had to gain from revealing it to one of the shadow minister’s aides. As Willam attempted to interject, Bianca simply turned and fixed her with a smile.

“You didn’t know that, no?” she asked Detox again. The platinum blonde simply shook her head, delighted at what had just been revealed. “Oh, of course you wouldn’t know that. Because the only people who do know that are, um, Miss Needles, her three advisors, and me. If this information got to the press…I would know that it came from you.”

Willam wanted to practically jump for joy as she saw Detox’s face fall, growing very apprehensive as Bianca backed her up against the wall and got uncomfortably close to her face. He voice lowering, Bianca continued the onslaught.

“And I would rain down upon you so hard, that your body would have to be re-assembled by crash team investigators,” she hissed. Detox opened her mouth to speak. “Do not fucking interrupt me, girl. Now, you breathe a word of this to ANYONE, you massive inflatable sex doll, and I will-”

Already shaking with laughter, Willam ducked her head out of the door and ran into the offices.

“Alaska! Court! Come quick. Bianca’s turning it all the way up to 100 in the hall with Detox,” she stage-whispered, the two girls looking up bemusedly but quickly following Willam back to the corridor doors nonetheless. The double doors were fronted with a small pane of clear glass, which the three girls all peered through to see Bianca continuing to verbally grill the terrified Detox.

“…I will take a pin and pop those inflatable balloons you have the audacity to call tits, I will melt down your silicone fucking lips to make toys for children in Africa, and I’ll donate the rest of your fucking entrails to Battersea dog’s home. Okay? Glad we’re agreed. Now. Get out of my fucking sight.”

As Detox stumbled back down the hall in a daze as if she’d just crawled out of an avalanche, the three girls on the other side of the door tried to compose themselves after their laughing fit.

“Bianca has such a way with words,” Alaska mused, wiping tears from her eyes. “So why was she verbally eviscerating Detox then? What had she done?”

Willam explained what had happened to the two girls, watching as their facial expressions shifted from confused, to fearful, then some semblance of reassured. There was still that aspect that was a little panicked, however; the knowledge that Detox knew about Sharon’s past clearly worrying them both. 

“Look, don’t give it too much thought. Bianca has it all under control. She always does,” Willam reassured them, shrugging as she walked back to her desk.

“I guess I’m happy to trust Bianca,” Courtney smiled, relaxing a little. “Have you guys had lunch yet?”

“Nah. Pret?” Willam offered, Courtney smiling beautifully and picking up her bag from her chair. Willam didn’t miss how Alaska simply nodded silently, her face still troubled, clearly not as trusting of Bianca as Courtney was.

***

As the three girls sat huddled around Alaska’s desk eating their lunch, Willam watched as Courtney scoffed down her very cheesy, very not vegan panini with tomato, pesto and mozzarella cheese that oozed out the side and made long, inconvenient strings. She could have teased Courtney for her momentary lapse in willpower, but she decided against it.

“Court, how can you eat literally whatever you want and still look so good?” Willam complimented her, attempting to make it look offhanded but still feeling like her guts were made of jelly as the words came out her mouth. It was hugely tiresome how much more nervous and self-aware she was around Courtney now that she’d actually acknowledged her crush on her. It was much harder to pretend things were purely platonic if she gave her a compliment.

In response, Courtney simply smiled bashfully and shrugged, her mouth full of food. “I often wonder the same thing about you. I’d kill to look like you.”

“What, with these thighs? Girl, no you wouldn’t,” Willam snorted, trying to keep herself from blushing.

“You’ve got good thighs,” Courtney insisted, making Willam wonder just how much attention Courtney paid to her legs. Snapping out of it, Willam told herself that she was probably just being kind. After a beat of silence, Alaska cut in.

“Well, I both know you find me wildly attractive and are also madly jealous of my amazing figure, which is why neither of you have said anything,” she joked through a mouthful of salmon salad. Willam gave her a playful shove, shocked when she heard a little shout.

“Jeez, Lask. It wasn’t that sore.”

“That wasn’t me,” Alaska said gravely, looking at Sharon’s office door where she could just see the dark, brown bun belonging to Phi Phi peering over the strip of frosted glass. Exchanging concerned looks, all three girls made their way over to the office.

Willam was the first to walk in, her eyes meeting Sharon’s first. She was sat behind the desk and was far paler than usual, her eyes frightened and huge in her face which had gone almost ghostly white. Turning her gaze to Phi Phi, she seemed smug in some way, as if she had the upper hand. In a moment, Willam knew exactly what had happened.

“Miss O’Hara, you’re not actually allowed in here. This is the minister’s private office,” Courtney began, in a valiant effort to stick up for Sharon who was clearly past sticking up for herself.

“Oh, it’s okay. Sharon and I were just having a little chat. A little reminisce on the past, if you like,” Phi Phi smiled, casting an amused gaze at Sharon whose face was ashen and defeated as she sat at her desk. Willam suddenly felt herself overcome with rage.

“I hope you’re giving Detox a big pay rise for that information. She won’t have much time to spend it though, once Bianca finds out. I’d maybe give her two…three days left to live?” she hissed, her face contorted as she glared at the shadow minister.

“Willam, is it?” Phi Phi addressed her, Willam momentarily wondering how she knew her name. “Willam. We all know what it’s like in politics. If someone has some info on someone else, it’s only natural that they’re going to exploit it. And that’s all that’s happening here!”

“Like hell are you exploiting anything,” Alaska spat, her face dark. Come to think of it, Willam had never really seen her so angry. “You know full well where to draw the line between personal and political information. If you leak this to the media then you’re reprehensible.”

“I’m sorry, ladies, but this is how you play the game. I’m not really prepared to discuss it,” Phi Phi rolled her eyes, picking up her bag from where it sat on Sharon’s desk.

Just as she made to leave, Willam turned to see Bianca standing in the doorway of Sharon’s office, glancing with confusion at the scene in front of her.

“Bianca!” Courtney cried, for once happy to see the Prime Minister’s enforcer. “We were just talking about how Phi Phi maybe shouldn’t go to the papers about Sharon…? Telling them about her DWI…? Trying to think of a reason why this would reflect badly on her party in some way…?”

Willam watched as Courtney looked pleadingly at Bianca, willing her to do something, anything to spin them out of this situation. Bianca for her part seemed calm, upbeat even.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she should! Good idea!” she shrugged, flashing a smile Phi Phi’s way as she turned and made to leave the room.

Courtney’s face immediately dropped as if she’d been slapped. Alaska’s expression was completely blank. Willam didn’t know what to think. It seemed as if Sharon was holding her breath, and Phi Phi simply stood rooted to the spot, her eyes still on Bianca as if she knew there was more to come. Sure enough, Bianca reached the doorframe, stopped, and turned on her heel.

“Oh, wait a minute! I know why she shouldn’t. Because you know, if she did that…she’d be dead. To me. To her advisors. To her party. To the electorate. And the only job she’d get in power is for this government’s catering company, sweeping up crumbs as a kitchen cleaner, because I’d call every journalist I know, which of course- that’s all of them! And I’d tell them all that lovely little story I’ve had saved for a rainy day, about a certain Right Honourable Lord O’Hara- how is your dad, by the way, Phi Phi?- and how he enjoyed a lovely five years as a member of the Bullingdon Club, a club so fucking morally bankrupt they had a film made about them. Of course, the homeless person Lord O’Hara had to kick in the face for his initiation- he didn’t enjoy it so much. Nor did the live pigeon he had to bite the head off of enjoy it either. And so I’d quite happily email all these journalists any photos and soundbites and CCTV footage they wanted, because I’d say…I’d say that’s quite a big story. I’d say that would probably contest a minister’s silly little DWI in the running order of the ten o’clock news. That’s what I’d tell her,” Bianca finally finished calmly, smiling a little at Phi Phi whose mouth was now hanging open like a goldfish. Turning to Courtney, Bianca simply nodded on her way out of the door. “But maybe you should tell her.”

Catching Courtney’s eye, Willam couldn’t help but burst into a triumphant grin. Courtney returned the smile, now completely relaxed knowing that Sharon had the upper hand. Phi Phi was still standing completely still and hadn’t moved since Bianca had left.

“I’ll, um. I’ll ask Jinkx to get your coat,” Sharon addressed Phi Phi pleasantly, sitting at her desk and pushing a single number on the phone as Phi Phi simply nodded wordlessly.

Willam wanted to burst out laughing. Say what you liked about Bianca, but she was an absolute mastermind.

***

They had made it through the day. They always did, after all. They were a great team, Willam thought, and God help them if they were ever disbanded in any way. Sitting in a quieter corner of the office with her head tipped against the head of the sofa, Willam took a deep breath. It was often needed at the end of days like these. Alaska sat to her right, curled up against the arm of the sofa and simply staring into the distance. Thinking for a moment, Willam turned her head and stared at Alaska.

“Do you think Bianca really had all that stuff to back up what she said about Phi Phi’s dad?”

Alaska smirked and met Willam’s eyes. “It’s Bianca. She’s a walking, talking database. She probably has shit on all of us. She probably knows stuff about you that you haven’t even done yet.”

Before Willam could even try to get her head around Alaska’s words, Courtney joined them. She flung herself against the sofa dramatically, gently tilting her head so that it rested in the crook of Willam’s shoulder. For a second, Willam could barely breathe.

“I wonder what she’s going to do to Detox when she next sees her. Can’t imagine I’d want to be in her hideous neon shoes right now,” Willam continued, trying to talk through her breathlessness.

“Who, Bianca?” Courtney murmured, nuzzling her head against Willam’s shoulder to get comfortable. Christ, why the fuck did she have to do that?

“Yeah,” Alaska smiled wistfully. “God, I’d be running for the hills if I was her. Alyssa’s charity ball is in three weeks, remember? I wouldn’t put it past Bianca to stage a live crucifixion as the night’s entertainment.”

Willam felt Courtney laugh softly against her side. She was such a warm, happy human being, at least when she wasn’t stressing her head off at the latest party cock-up. She was too good to be working here, but Willam was so glad that she did.

“So you’re not going to be ditching us to run back to the opposition anytime soon then? Not going to be meeting up with Detox and Roxxxy for a cute little catch-up coffee?” Willam only half-joked, turning to address Alaska again. She watched as Alaska’s face grew a little dark, her brow furrowing as she let out a derisive laugh.

“I’m not fucking with anyone who attempts to sabotage Sharon’s career,” she said forebodingly.

There it was again, Willam thought, this protective side to Alaska which she’d never really seen before. She didn’t think she’d ever get over how strange it was.

Footsteps behind the sofa prompted all three of them to turn around. It was Sharon- she’d freshened up her makeup a little and had sprayed some deodorant or perfume or something that smelt nice. Reaching the sofa, she gave a warm smile to the three girls.

“Thanks for your support today, ladies,” she said sincerely, leaning on the back of the sofa. “It was a tough fucking day, but we got there.”

“Sorry that Jinkx couldn’t arrange an alternative bit of PR in time, Sharon,” Courtney smiled apologetically. Sharon let out a small laugh.

“Are you kidding? That was a blessing in disguise. After the day I’ve had the last thing I want to do is go and feign interest in electric cars for an hour,” she shook her head. “Seriously though, thank you. You guys are a total blessing.”

Willam was surprised when she then turned to face Alaska, her expression turning a little shy. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, two minutes. I need to pack up and I’ll be good,” Alaska smiled timidly back at her, her cheeks going a little red.

“Okay. I’ll wait at the lifts. See you tomorrow, girls,” Sharon said finally, waving goodbye to Willam and Courtney before walking away.

Courtney tipped her head off Willam’s shoulder to lean forward and look at Alaska, who was grabbing her coat. “Where are you two off to, then?”

Alaska stopped in her tracks, as if she hadn’t really been expecting the question. “Oh! Um, Sharon’s just giving me a lift home.”

Willam screwed up her face at her friend. “A lift home? Is that a joke?”

Seemingly realising her mistake, Alaska smiled and shook her head. “I meant her driver. Her driver’s going to drop me home on the way back to Sharon’s.”

Willam sat blankly for a moment, turning to Courtney and seeing her face holding the exact same expression. “Your flat’s five minutes away, you lazy fuck!”

“Yeah, well. I’m exhausted,” Alaska shrugged, grabbing her bag and making to leave. “Bye, ladies. See you tomorrow.”

Willam gave a lacklustre reply as Alaska made her way out of the department. Sighing, Courtney leant against the arm of the sofa, kicking her legs over Willam’s lap and subsequently causing Willam’s pulse to quicken by about 90%. They sat in silence for a moment, Willam’s brain too full to even contemplate starting a conversation. Luckily, it was Courtney that spoke first.

“Do you think something’s going on there? Between Sharon and Alaska?”

Willam paused. If it were any other situation, she’d maybe have thought Courtney was right. But this was work, and sometimes people got incredibly passionate about their party and the people that ran it. Alaska had had to put up with Phi Phi, and then Darienne. It was only natural that now that she was finally working for someone competent, of course she was going to want with every fibre of her being for that person to do well. Turning to face Courtney, Willam made a doubtful face.

“Nah. Alaska’s just loyal. She wants to see Sharon do well. That’s all I think it is anyway.”

Willam watched as Courtney knit her brows together, frowning momentarily then casting her gaze into her lap.

“You know-” she began, then cut herself off as she decided against saying whatever she had to say. Then, changing her mind, she began again. “I swear you’re so blind half the time, Willam. I think you have your guard up so high you can’t even see when someone has feelings for someone else. It’s kind of…I don’t know. I just wish you’d open your eyes.”

Willam watched, astounded as Courtney swung her legs off her lap and stood up. Her face was bright red, as if she was embarrassed in some way. Willam felt she had to reply, but she had no idea what to say or how to respond. She simply blinked at Courtney, as if her last ditch attempt at communication was morse code.

“I’ll, um. I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Courtney continued, smoothing down her dress and smiling as if she hadn’t said a thing. Going along with the façade, Willam nodded slowly. “Bye, Willam.”

As Courtney’s footsteps retreated down the office and into the lift, Willam just stared straight ahead and tried to make sense of what Courtney had said, or what it even meant, or what the implications were. It had felt like she was mad at her in some way, although Willam couldn’t figure out what she’d done. What had she meant by it all? It made Willam’s head hurt.

She was still there when the cleaners arrived half an hour later, and she still hadn’t managed to unscramble her brain. Giving up, Willam grabbed her coat and bag and made her way to the lifts, stuck with the feeling that somehow she’d left something behind.


	4. Chapter 4

There was definitely something fishy going on in the department, and it wasn’t Jinkx’s disgusting home-made tuna and sweetcorn sandwiches.

Willam hadn’t really noticed it at first. She’d been too busy with her work if she was honest- December was looming ever-closer and the hurry to compile the existing crime stats in time for New Year was a busy race. But she’d first spotted it on Monday, when Alaska had been twenty minutes late for work and arrived at exactly the same time as Sharon, her face grubby with what was presumably makeup from the day before.

“Christ girl, did you get out the wrong side of bed this morning?” Willam had pressed her, yelling across the office as Alaska had sunk sheepishly into her chair. “And then hit a wall and dragged yourself through a river of pig shit and gorse bushes?”

Alaska had simply rolled her eyes, scrunching the bird’s nest of hair on her head a little self-consciously. “I don’t look that bad, drama queen. Just overslept, that’s all. Now can we all just get on with our damn work before we accidentally let in a million illegal immigrants or something?”

That had been that, and Willam hadn’t really thought any more about it. That was until the next evening, when Alaska seemed to leave work but reappeared again beside the lifts, dressed immaculately in a fancy red shift dress and gold heels with makeup to match. She’d quietly slipped away before Willam could even interrogate her.

The weirdest by far had been the morning after, when Alaska arrived at work in a dress that was almost identical, in fact completely identical, to one Sharon already owned.

“What, do we get to share Sharon’s clothes now? Is that our festive bonus this year?” Willam had laughed incredulously, narrowing her eyes at Alaska in confusion.

“What? It was a nice dress, I went and got the same one. It’s only from H&M, for crying out loud. Half the girls you see in any clapped-out Camden bar are probably going to be wearing it,” Alaska had snorted in response. 

It was all just odd. There was also the fact that Alaska was barely out of Sharon’s office prepping for the New Year’s trip to Brussels, where the minister, one of her advisors and one member of the comms team went over for an international summit on European social affairs. It was almost as if Willam barely knew what was going on with her friend anymore.

Courtney was being weird with her as well. She’d turned colder, almost like some weird professional ghost of her former self. She barely even smiled when Willam tried to joke with her, was strangely quiet, and never really ate lunch with her anymore. Willam wished she knew what was happening with her. It wasn’t as if her crush on Courtney had died down- in fact, being borderline ignored by her only made her heart hurt more, made her wonder if she’d done something horrendously wrong or offensive. Even as a friend it worried her, and she wished Courtney would open up to her as she had done all those weeks ago.

The combination of what was essentially her two best friends completely ditching her made Willam feel a little lonelier than normal, and so she’d begun spending her lunch breaks with the comms team. Katya was always happy to see her (even if she did tease Willam about Courtney mercilessly when nobody was listening), Trixie would often share her snacks with her, and Willam had found herself warming to Violet who was actually very sharp and witty, though she concealed it well under her stony, statuesque resting bitch face. Although she liked spending time with the civil servants, Willam couldn’t help but wish her friends would be back to normal again. 

It had started out as an ordinary Friday morning, if a little more boring now that Willam no longer had Alaska to bitch to or Courtney to flirt with, even if said flirting was under the guise of being platonic. In fact, the morning almost had an atmosphere of calm; that was until Jinkx answered the phone and proceeded to squawk the department down.

“What?! The seven o’clock?! Absolutely not. There’s no way! It’s not possible to collate that amount of data in time, let alone brief her on everything necessary.”

At this point everyone had stopped working entirely, all eyes fixed on Jinkx who was biting her lip impatiently and staring at Sharon’s door with uncertainty. “I’d need to discuss it with her. Can I get you to call me back? Right. Thank you.”

“Whose cat’s being strangled?” came a voice from the other end of the office. As if on cue, Sharon had appeared from her room. She seemed a little more tired today, and was clutching a Red Bull for dear life in her red-taloned hand.

Casting her eyes back down the office, Willam also noticed an identical Red Bull sitting on Alaska’s desk just beside her computer monitor.

Ignoring Sharon’s sarcasm, Jinkx gestured to the phone in irritation. “I have just come off the phone with Dan Donigan over at radio Five Live.”

“What, Milk?” Willam piped up, curiosity piqued. Milk, to give him his DJ name, was an interesting host. He was a lovely guy, chilled and easy-going, and on the surface seemed like a good interview. However one slip up and he would go in, firing off questions like one of those machines that shot out tennis balls one after the other, whacking you with them until you were a crumpled heap on the floor.

Barely acknowledging Willam’s interjection, Jinkx continued. “And he had the utter nerve to ask for an interview with you at seven o’clock this evening, a ‘showdown’ between you and the shadow minister covering the refugee crisis.”

“Wait, he wants me and Phi Phi?” Sharon asked, narrowing her eyes a little and suddenly more alert than she had been 60 seconds previously. Jinkx nodded in reply.

“I told him I’d have to ask you but if you want my opinion, there’s absolutely no way you should do it, Sharon. We have approximately-” she craned her neck to look at the clock. “- nine hours to prep you, which is not nearly enough time for you to collate all the facts and figures you’d need for a debate like that!”

“We had three hours to prepare for a Michaels interview and still pulled it off,” Alaska interjected, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Yes, Alaska, but this is different. Chad Michaels knew Sharon was in the right and simply wanted her as an illustration of tabloid sexism. This is Dan Donigan. And from what I’ve heard, he’s pretty buddy with Phi Phi.”

“Look, the refugee crisis is something I care a lot about and know a lot about. I have a lot of the facts already, it wouldn’t take me long to brush up on them and potentially even learn a couple more of the intricacies. It would take- what, a couple of hours to fully brief me about Five Live? I see no reason why I can’t do this, Jinkx,” Sharon said, her eyes more determined than ever.

Jinkx looked like a wearied mother whose child had just asked if they could have their entire class round for a sleepover the next day.

“What’s Bianca’s opinion?” Willam asked, leaning forward on her desk with her elbows. It made sense to her that they would ask Bianca, and if anyone was going to know if it was a good or bad idea it would be her.

“No idea. Call her and ask,” Jinkx shrugged, clearly happy to be palming off some extra work.

Despairing of Jinkx’s laziness for what must have been the thousandth time that year, Willam took out her work phone and dialled Bianca.

“Willam Belli. Good morning,” Bianca chirped down the phone jovially. She seemed to be in a good mood, a really good mood, which was fucking weird.

“Bianca, hi. Listen, we’ve had Milk on the phone, he wants Sharon and Phi Phi for a debate about the refugee crisis at 7pm. What do you think?”

“I say carpe that fucking diem. Get her on.”

Surprised, Willam gave her phone a double-take, as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “Sorry, this is for 7pm tonight, not tomorrow.”

“I know how the fuck time works! Get her on the damn show.”

Willam was nothing short of amazed. “Bianca, are you su- I mean, this is definitely a good idea then?”

“Listen. Sharon is a walking, talking database. She retains facts and figures like some horrifying human sponge. She’s a confident girl, Dan will love her. Just get her on and get her to make Phi Phi look like she’s drowned hundreds of refugee orphans personally with her own two hands.”

Rolling her eyes a little at Bianca’s harsh turn of phrase, Willam had heard all she needed. “Okay, well, thanks for your input.”

She hit ‘end call’ before Bianca had a chance to say any more, turning to face Sharon, Jinkx and Alaska who were all craning their necks, waiting to hear what the verdict was.

“Hell has frozen over and Bianca has actually approved something,” Willam shrugged, and was met with an excited beam from Sharon and a disgruntled sigh from Jinkx. “It’s going ahead. Jinkx, phone Milk back.”

Muttering in exasperation under her breath, Jinkx simply turned around in her swivel chair and dutifully began hitting a number of buttons on her phone. Waiting for some form of instruction from Sharon, Willam was surprised with she instead turned to Alaska, chattering happily but not quite audibly. At one point, Sharon seemed to excitedly grab one of Alaska’s hands, squeezing it once, twice and then letting go. Alaska didn’t appear the least bit fazed, as if this was almost a regular occurrence between them. In any event, if Sharon tried to involuntarily grab Willam’s hands mid-conversation, she was getting a slap.

With nobody left to talk to, Willam turned to Courtney’s desk to find her deep in concentration, her brow furrowed like a tiny ploughed field.

She’d been so deep in her work that she’d missed the entire exchange.

***

It was another lonely lunchtime for Willam. Well, she supposed she was being melodramatic. It was just that Alaska had been called into the office yet again about the trip to Brussels, and Courtney was sitting eating her lunch at her desk in front of her work. Willam had asked if she wanted to join her but all she’d received in reply was a shake of Courtney’s head and a small smile tinted a little with sadness. Willam could’ve asked her about it, finally confronted her about whatever was going on with her, but she’d never heard of a successful heart-to-heart that had taken place over crime stats so she’d just joined the comms team for lunch instead.

“Bow down, ladies! The minister’s political advisor has once again deigned us lowly civil servants worthy enough to be graced with her presence,” Katya announced dramatically as Willam took the chair next to her, earning her a barely-stifled laugh and an unimpressed roll of Willam’s eyes. The table shoved into one of the corners of the office was small but they’d managed to fit Violet, Trixie and Katya round it already, who were all currently munching their way through their lunch.

“Hey, just let me eat my disappointing Costa sandwich in peace, okay?”

“No, sorry. There’s nothing more disappointing than this,” Trixie interjected, giving Katya a death stare as she held up a sad-looking hot dog in a bun. “Who the fuck gives this to their girlfriend for their lunch? I swear this is a form of domestic abuse in some countries.”

“I’m sure there’s a child bride in the third world that’s weeping for you, Trixie,” Violet deadpanned, smirking a little at Katya’s hysterical laughter.

“All I’m saying is, why the fuck would the woman that supposedly loves me more than anything in the world give me this abomination in a ziplock bag?!”

“Because when you eat it, it makes me think of you sucking dick and it turns me on,” Katya batted her eyelashes, opening her legs to inhuman proportions under the table. As Trixie reached across the table to shove her, Violet flared her nostrils.

“That is gross, Katya.”

“You’re saying the undying love I have for my girlfriend and our obscure sexual practices is gross?! You are a homophobe, Violet Chachki.”

“Hey, I can’t be homophobic towards you if neither you nor I know what kind of sexuality you even are!” Violet laughed, her usually marble face breaking into the sunniest of smiles. Katya tilted her head to one side, suddenly deep in thought. She’d made it quite clear and had been quite open about the fact that she didn’t really believe in labelling herself, insisting in her own words that people were people, and if we were meant to have labels we’d be tins or jars.

“I think I’m that one that doesn’t give a fuck whether it’s a peen or vagine or whoever that peen or vagine belongs to, as long as they’re hot and can make me laugh.”

Trixie seemed to momentarily turn a little green. “If you ever refer to genitalia using those terms again, I’m breaking up with you.”

“What’s it called? Potsexual?”

Everyone at the table burst out into raucous laughter at Katya’s expense.

“Pansexual, you silly bitch!” Willam howled, clutching at her stomach which was now doubled up with laughter. Composing herself slightly and wiping the tears of laughter away from her eyes, she shook her head. “Y’all are fucking batshit crazy, no wonder I never eat lunch with you.” 

“Hey! It’s not my fault I’m not down with the tumblr lingo of the cool kids of today,” Katya shrugged, taking a bite of her own plain, dry hot dog. At that moment Adore appeared at the table, almost melting into the hard plastic chair.

“Christ, you look hellish. Did Laila have you up all night?” Trixie greeted her as Adore rubbed her eyes, clearly sleep deprived.

“Very funny, bitch,” she bit back, opening her pasta salad. “Sadly it wasn’t even fucking. Her neighbours have just had a new baby and the walls are paper thin so we got treated to Beethoven’s ninth symphony in Constant Screeching until, like, 5am.”

“To be fair, you’ve probably given them Mozart’s nocturne in Loud Moaning quite a few times,” Violet joked, earning her a kick under the table from Adore.

Willam looked at Adore curiously. She had no idea that her and Laila were still a thing, least of all that Adore was at the stage where she was staying over. Well, she concluded, it did the party no harm to have a journalist on their side and it was certainly more fruitful an endeavour than chasing a co-worker around for weeks on end whilst being ignored. 

“Anyway, why’s this bitch eating with us again?” Adore changed the subject, looking at Willam with a slightly confused air. “Where’s the two other blonde dye jobs?”

Willam glared at her a little, mildly offended. “Well Courtney’s still working on those bastarding crime stats and Alaska’s got yet another meeting with Sharon about Brussels.”

“Wait,” Violet scrunched up her face, the picture of confusion. “That’s not right. We’re not scheduled for meetings about Brussels until December, Sharon emailed me and Alaska last week.”

“She’s taking you to Brussels and not us?! How dare she! We’re the most professional and competent fuckers in this department,” Katya cried, appealing to her girlfriend for backup. Trixie simply smirked at her.

“Katya you literally spilt your entire cappuccino over your keyboard yesterday. The whole thing.”

“I did n-”

“The whole. Thing,” Trixie repeated, chucking a piece of bread at Katya from across the table.

“Can we just get back to this situation?” Willam cut in quietly, looking Violet directly in the eye. “So there’s no meetings about Brussels until next week?”

Violet shook her head, still as confused as before. Willam didn’t blame her- Alaska and Sharon had been meeting for the past two weeks about Brussels, or at least that was what Willam had been told. But now she didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what they’d been talking about or planning. She hadn’t been told anything, neither had Courtney, and that made her blood boil.

Setting her lunch down on the table, Willam marched towards Sharon’s office, the combination of determination and annoyance almost clouding her vision. If she was being cut out of the loop, it would be the last, mouldy cherry on top of this shitstorm of this week’s cake. What did she care that Sharon was in charge? She had no right to exclude her and no right to exclude Courtney either, Willam’s heart swelling at the thought of her crush. No wonder she’d been so distant all week. If Sharon was planning something with only one advisor, then Willam had half a mind to tell her where she could stick her job.

That was until she burst open the door and saw Sharon sat behind her desk, her head tipped back and her eyes half-lidded, the smallest moan escaping her lips. Looking at the foot of the desk, Willam suddenly understood why- the red bottoms of Alaska’s Louboutins poked out from the strip of the desk just above the floor, almost concealing her from view, but not quite.

She put two and two together and got one million.

Aware that she’d slightly flung the door open, and still half in shock, Willam began to back out. 

“I’ll, um. Okay. I’m…yeah,” she babbled quietly, the sudden noise in the room causing Sharon’s eyes to fly open and her hands to shoot immediately up from her lap as if Willam had her at gunpoint. Ignoring her protestations, Willam made her way briskly down the corridor and into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. 

She badly needed to clear her head. It made sense, of course it made sense. It explained away so much of what had been going on in Dosac in the past fortnight. She just couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been not to notice it. Courtney had been right all along, and Willam could’ve kicked herself for not listening to her. Furthermore, she could’ve kicked Alaska for her stupidity in the matter as well. What the fuck was she thinking about, getting into a relationship or casual fucking or whatever the hell this whole mess was with Sharon? With her boss?! How was she now meant to give impartial advice about serious departmental- scratch that, governmental matters? 

Making to splash some cold water on her face, Willam stopped when the bathroom door burst open to reveal Alaska. 

“Willam,” she began, seemingly not knowing how she would follow it up. Her face was flushed, a scarlet blush striking her cheeks as if she’d been slapped. 

“I, um. I don’t really know what to think,” Willam shrugged, looking her friend in the eye and wondering if she really recognised her all that much anymore. “You didn’t tell me anything, Lask. I mean, what am I meant to think? What even is this? What the fuck is going on?! I just…”

“We’re together,” Alaska cut in quietly. “Sharon and I. We’ve been seeing each other these past two weeks.”

There was a frosty pause in which Willam wanted to give all kinds of sarcastic remarks, but nothing could really hide how much she’d been hurt by the whole situation. “I just don’t understand…Alaska, she’s your boss.”

“Yeah, well…” Alaska sighed, running a hand through her hair and appearing frustrated at not being able to articulate herself properly. “It doesn’t feel like that, Will. It feels different. It doesn’t feel like a workplace relationship, it feels like we’re equals.”

“Well that’s just peachy. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve not been able to give a single piece of impartial advice since she’s arrived. You’ve sided with her on everything, Alaska. It’s been up to me and Courtney to be the fucking common sense in this department.”

As Willam finished, Alaska shrank back, leaning a little on the sink and casting her eyes to the white tiled floor. Annoyed at the pang of sudden sympathy she felt for her friend, Willam changed tack.

“Does Jinkx know?” she asked her, knowing that if she’d confided in anyone it would have been her.

“No,” Alaska sighed, appearing sincere as she looked Willam in the eye. “You’re the only one that knows.”

Rolling her eyes, Willam scuffed the floor with the heel of her shoe. So now she was being burdened with this, this massive mess that Alaska had managed to enter into, hell, that Sharon had entered into as well. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her secret to keep. Growing more annoyed by the minute, Willam found herself snapping at her friend.

“And so you want me to go to the trouble of covering this up for you and helping you both be happy as two pigs in shit together, wilfully ignoring the inevitable shitstorm this will cause if it gets to the press. I mean what are the papers going to make of this, Alaska?! They find out that Sharon’s been fucking one of her advisors so none of her policies have been properly analysed or vetted because the aides are too elbow-deep in their boss to care?! I mean why the fuck should I cover this for you, because as far as bad ideas go this sounds as if it could’ve been dreamed up by Darienne!”

“Because if this was you and Courtney, you would beg me to do the same!” Alaska barked back, covering her mouth slightly as if she’d just vomited all over the bathroom floor.

Willam felt her spine freeze up, as if she was suddenly in a horrible nightmare.

“How…How the fuck do you know about that? Did Katya tell you, is that it? Did Katya tell everyone? Holy fucking shit.”

Feeling the panic rise in her throat, Willam’s breathing hitched a little. This was an unmitigated disaster, people knew. Hell, Courtney probably knew, why else would she have been avoiding her? There was no way on God’s earth that Willam could show her face in the department again. Catching a quick glimpse of herself in the mirror, she noticed she’d gone completely white. 

Clearly feeling guilty, Alaska took Willam gently by the wrist. Her voice was softer as she addressed her friend. "No. Nobody told me. I worked it out. I recognised that look you’ve been giving her for ages. It was the same one I’d been giving Sharon since the day she arrived, to be honest.”

Willam barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes, admittedly grateful that the news of her crush clearly wasn’t all around the office. Pausing a little in the silence, she cleared her throat.

“I won’t, um. I won’t tell anyone about you and Sharon, Lask. I was never going to, you’re my friend for Christ’s sake. I just want you to know what you’re doing,” Willam muttered, sweeping a long strand of hair out of her face. Alaska smiled slightly guiltily.

“Thank you. I do. And you’re right, maybe I could work on that whole impartiality thing. Honestly though, don’t worry. We won’t do anything that would put the integrity of the party at risk,” she said sincerely, squeezing Willam’s hand gently. Glad that things seemed to be calming down, Willam let out a breath she hadn’t really known she’d been holding. Alaska suddenly opened her mouth again, a cheeky glint in her eye. “You’re clearly worried about it getting out, but if you ever need someone to talk to about Courtney, well. I’m always here. You’re my friend, Willam and…well, no matter how involved I get with anyone, that won’t change.”

Relaxing a little, Willam allowed herself to laugh. “Thanks, girl. Has she, um. Has she mentioned anything to you?”

Alaska gave her a quizzical look. If she was being honest, Willam hadn’t really meant to ask Alaska anything, but the constant silence from Courtney was making her worried. Clearly deciding not to ask about it, Alaska shrugged.

“Not to me. In fact, she’s not really said much to me at all these past few days. She’s been a little quiet, don’t you think?”

Willam simply nodded in reply, secretly glad she wasn’t the only one that Courtney had been weird with.

“I guess I’ve been too caught up in the honeymoon phase of everything with me and Sharon that I haven’t really been making much time for my friends,” Alaska admitted, her face guilty as she looked to the floor. Realising that she’d probably suffered enough, Willam pulled her friend into a hug.

“It’s alright, girl, we’ve all done it. Well, not me, because I don’t actually have a heart.”

“Hey, you can’t make those jokes anymore, bitch!”

“Shut up, whore! Anyway. Court’s clearly going through something. Let’s just show her we’re there for her?“ Willam sighed, slightly at a loss as to what to do anymore since her life was beginning to be turned upside down at such a rapid pace, like some bizarre hourglass that someone kept flipping over and over.

“Agreed,” Alaska smiled. Her smile was so infectious and goofy that Willam couldn’t help but smile back, happy to have at least one of her friends back again.

“Hey, did you have lunch yet? Mine is still half-eaten at the table. Well, if Trixie hasn’t got to it yet,” Willam joked, earning a laugh from her friend.

“Go for it. And you can gush to me all about Court while we eat,” Alaska laughed as she threaded her arm through Willam’s. Rolling her eyes, Willam snorted a little, embarrassed but secretly pleased she had someone to open up to about things.

Of course, she would never let Alaska know that.

***

The building which held the Five Live studios was nice, from what Willam had seen of it so far. The entranceway was open and airy and certainly wasn’t as intimidating as it had seemed from the outside. The café also didn’t seem too much of a rip off, which was half the problem with a lot of the BBC buildings. Rubbing her eyes a little and being careful to avoid her mascara, Willam began pouring herself a latte from the coffee machine. It had been a long drive, and Willam had found herself wishing for the energetic presence of Katya as she sat squashed between Courtney and Sharon, who had both been completely silent for the duration of the journey with their heads in their notebooks. She wished Alaska had been there, but one of them had had to stay behind in the department in case anything horrific happened with communications while they were away, and considering what had happened earlier Alaska had volunteered herself, saving Willam from feeling like the third wheel on the office tryst tricycle.

It was good to have Alaska back as a friend. Even in the short space of time between their chat in the bathrooms to the drive to the Five Live studios, Willam felt it was as if nothing had ever happened. If anything, she seemed closer to Alaska; now that they both knew each other’s secrets they could open up to each other, and Willam felt far better for it. She actually felt happy for her friend, and hearing her talk about Sharon made her realise that what they had was definitely more than a flimsy office romance.

Taking her coffee to the counter to pay, Willam noticed Sharon already at the till. She realised that she hadn’t yet addressed the elephant in the room between them. Wondering if she should say something, she noticed that Sharon had only bought an apple and a bottle of water.

“You nervous?” she asked her, making Sharon jump a little bit beside her and subsequently answering Willam’s question without her even having to speak.

“A little,” Sharon smiled, seemingly grateful that Willam obviously didn’t hate her. “It’s just I’m expected to be an expert on this, you know? I feel like I need to deliver. I know it’s only a stupid radio debate but if I argue my point clearly enough we could maybe finally get something done about this in parliament.”

Willam nodded understandingly. “You’ll be fine, honestly. You’re good at shit like this.”

There was a small pause in which Willam wasn’t sure if it was the time to bring up the whole situation with Alaska. Sharon seemed to sense what Willam was thinking.

“Look, Willam, I’m really sorry for…well, earlier. It was severely unprofessional, I’m really not normally like that, I swear,” she babbled out, clearly trying her best to look Willam in the eye but too embarrassed to follow through with it. Laughing a little at the scarlet blush that was beginning to attack Sharon’s pale cheeks, Willam put her out of her misery.

“Sharon. It’s okay. Alaska talked to me about it. Sure, I don’t think it’s the most amazing idea in the world, but you two are clearly happy and as long as it’s not going to intervene in your work, then who am I to stop you?” she shrugged, turning around at the last second to pay for her coffee. When she turned back, Sharon was smiling at her, relieved.

“You’re a good friend, Willam,” she said sincerely, which stopped Willam in her tracks a little. She didn’t really think of Sharon as one of her friends, but thinking about it she supposed that there was probably no harm in letting someone else in. She simply smiled in return as Sharon continued. “I didn’t plan on getting so hung up on Alaska but that very first day when I arrived at Dosac and met her I just instantly felt connected to her, you know? I think she felt that way too.”

“She did. She’s told me,” Willam smirked, watching as Sharon broke out into a huge smile.

“Wow. I guess I try not to talk about those sorts of feelings so much round her in case it scares her off,” Sharon shrugged, her face still bashful.

“Believe me, I don’t think you’re in danger of doing that in a hurry.”

Just then, the little click-clack of heels behind them announced the arrival of Courtney, her footsteps almost as quiet as her recent demeanour.

“Shall we get going?” she asked, putting on what looked to be a brave face. “Phi Phi and her team should already be there. There’s still a couple of minutes to go but it’s best to be punctual, don’t you think?”

“You’re the boss,” Willam smiled cheerfully in an attempt to counteract Courtney’s downbeat air. “Well, technically Sharon is but, you know.”

Courtney only offered a polite smile in return. With Willam more confused than ever, the three made their way over to the lifts.

Six floors up sat the Five Live studios, a labyrinth of corridors and tiny offices with sofas and armchairs perched outside them. Three right-turns away from the lift, they were greeted by the three stony faces of Phi Phi, Detox and Roxxxy, a tall girl with long, straight blonde hair in a ponytail and huge hoop earrings, and a relaxed-looking man with a chiselled jaw and styled brown hair. If Willam hadn’t known who he was, she’d have mistaken him for a male model.

“Sharon, hi! Lovely to meet you. I’m Dan, although please do call me Milk,” he smiled, leaning forward and shaking Sharon’s hand warmly. Sharon seemed a little taken aback by such a friendly gesture from a journalist, but then Milk wasn’t really all that conventional anyway. Today he was wearing loose, cuffed black joggers and a baggy hoodie; so not exactly a picture of professionalism, but over the years Willam had learnt never to judge a book by its cover. Turning to include the opposition, Milk carried on.

“Okay, so you’ve probably heard the breaking news that Scotland are going to be aiming to take 20,000 refugees within the next five years, so we’re going to be covering that and springboarding the debate from there. The news is going to be after you.”

A quick glance to Phi Phi showed that the breaking news obviously hadn’t been broken to her yet. She was shooting a side-glance at Detox that could’ve melted a steel beam. Detox had the same level of discomfort on her face as someone halfway through a colonoscopy.

“This is Ganja, she’s our producer,” Milk waved a hand to the girl beside him, who smiled briefly and snuck a look at her clipboard.

“Your advisors will be allowed in the control room, although they will have to keep the noise down so I can put through texts to Milk. And this is all going out live, so no swearing from either of you two,” she glared coldly at Sharon and Phi Phi as if she’d just been informed that both of them had Tourette’s. “You’re all in this green room here.”

She gestured to the glass-panelled room beside the corridor, in which sat two coffee tables, three little sofas, and a coffee machine. Suddenly, Willam noticed that Sharon was stifling a laugh.

“I take it you spend a lot of time in the green room? You know, what with…your name,” she finally joked, clearly impressed with her own wit. All she got in return was a sour look and a click of Ganja’s long talons.

“My name is actually of Persian origin,” she sniffed, prompting an awkward silence. Milk was the one to finally break it.

“Okay, we’re going to go start the show and then Ganja will come and get you when it’s time. Please take a seat,” he smiled, walking off down the corridor with the producer.

Still cringing at Sharon’s joke, Willam led the way into the green room and relaxed onto the sofa. To her surprise, Courtney sat beside her. It would have been a normal occurrence every other day, but today Willam was surprised that Courtney wanted to be near her at all. As Sharon sat down, Willam became vaguely aware of Phi Phi ranting away to a sheepish-looking Detox.

“…why I, the damn shadow minister for social affairs and citizenship, apparently doesn’t know shit about what’s going on in relation to that? I mean we’re meant to be the ones that are one step ahead all the damn time!”

“Bitch was probably too busy ordering dresses for Alyssa’s to look at the BBC News 24 notifications blowing her phone up,” Roxxxy chipped in snarkily, shooting Detox a poisonous glare.

Interesting, Willam thought. All was clearly not well in political advisor paradise for the government or its opposition. 

“Oh, you think you’re immune to this?!” Phi Phi suddenly turned on her incredulously. Realising she’d perhaps been a little too loud she shot Sharon a sudden faux-relaxed smile, then resumed her hissing. “I mean, why didn’t you know? Why doesn’t anybody know anything? Jesus, twenty-fucking-thousand refugees? How am I going to explain that one to the cabinet? I mean, why was that allowed to happen?”

“Probably because Morgan McMichaels and the rest of her government don’t have a fucking compassion deficiency,” Willam muttered under her breath to no-one in particular. To her surprise and delight, she heard Courtney let out a soft giggle beside her. The remark had gone unnoticed by Phi Phi, who was still foaming at the mouth.

“When I see Morgan at Alyssa’s damn ball next week, she’s getting a piece of my mind. I mean, this decision has just come completely out of nowhere!”

“I guess it is their problem, though, Phi Phi. I mean, it is their government, they’ve got to worry about it, not us,” Roxxxy shrugged, attempting to calm the energy in the room down and failing.

“That’s all very fucking well and good until the public start asking me why I didn’t challenge it, or if things will be the same in the other three quarters of this damn, so-called United Kingdom. I mean, hell, the only reason Morgan’s doing this is so she can look good to the rest of the world and get some traction going on these dreams of another fucking independence referendum, which was bad enough the first time round!” Phi Phi’s voice raised to a dramatic crescendo as she reached the end of her sentence and slapped her lever arch file across her knees for emphasis. The room fell silent once more as Willam caught Sharon’s eye and they shared a knowing smile. Phi Phi was flustered, and that was good news for them.

A couple more minutes of frosty silence passed where neither Phi Phi or Sharon would look at each other.

“This is a joke. Are we just going to ignore each other until the debate starts?” Sharon whispered to Willam.

“I think that’s her plan. Anyway, it might be for the best. Release all the pent-up aggression in the studio like some kinda political Mike Tyson.”

“Well, as long as she doesn’t bite my literal ear off then I’m fine,” Sharon joked, shuddering a little. Just then, the silence in the room was broken by Roxxxy’s phone, the classic and yet generic iPhone ringtone deafening in the glass room.

“It’s Betty,” she whispered to Phi Phi. Phi Phi looked momentarily as if someone had swiftly removed every organ from her body in one go. Willam perked up. If the opposition’s spin doctor was trying to contact them, something important was obviously going on. She tucked her hair behind her ears in order to try and hear better.

“Hi Betty!” Roxxxy sing-songed down the phone in an effort to appear cheerful. Her face immediately faltered as something was being yelled down the line to her. Looking to Phi Phi, she leaned closer and Willam could only make out certain things she was whispering.

“…complete U-turn …in concurrence with the British people…welcome people in…”

Phi Phi was not as subtle. Narrowing her eyes at the phone then back to Roxxxy, she murmured a reply. “Roxxxy. I’ve been invited here for a debate. If I U-turn, there won’t be any debate. Plus I will be the only shadow minister in this whole party pulling this stance and I am not going to be spending the rest of my days in Westminster feeling like the girl who has to go and eat lunch in the toilets on her own, so no, tell her the answer’s no.”

Just then, Ganja appeared from the corridor, beckoning them all through. Sharon immediately leapt up, with Willam and Courtney following behind her. Roxxxy was still on the phone.

“Hi Betty, yeah, Phi Phi is kind of reluctant to do that so we’re just going to stick with the line we’ve been given.”

As Willam passed by her, she could hear the muffled yell of a woman at the end of her tether on the phone.

“Well this is the line I’m giving you! You tell her that-”

No more could be heard of Betty’s shouting as Willam made her way into the control room, with a quick “good luck” thrown Sharon’s way as she stepped into the studio behind a rattled-looking Phi Phi. Through the soundproof pane of glass she could see Milk chatting away into the microphone, Sharon sat at the huge wheely chair to his left and Phi Phi opposite them both. Willam could see Roxxxy’s face through the tiny pane of glass at the studio door, frantically trying to get Phi Phi to come back presumably so that she could communicate whatever Betty had been yelling to her. Suddenly, Detox stormed into the control room, irritation all over her face.

“Everything okay on your end, Detox?” Willam smiled pleasantly, revelling in the death glare that was sent her way in return.

“Fine, thank you Willam. All Phi is concerned about is making your boss look like the laughing stock she is,” Detox snapped back smugly. Willam could only laugh in reply.

“If I were you, I’d be a bit more worried about your boss actually knowing shit that goes on in this country instead of looking like an A-level government and politics student that just entered an exam room and forgot to revise. But y’know. You do you,” she shrugged nonchalantly, her smile becoming even bigger when she realised that Detox had absolutely no comeback. Casting a quick glance to Courtney, she was surprised to find her already smiling her way. Willam gave a timid smile back.

Timid. That was a word Willam never thought she’d be using to describe herself, but then so often being around Courtney fucked up her own self-expectations. Her kind, gentle nature always seemed to throw Willam off a bit, softening her personality. Although did she really need that if she wanted to get anywhere in the world of politics? This job was her life, it always had been. Perhaps that was only the case because she’d never had any alternative.

Willam scrunched her face up, chasing those particular thoughts away. This was neither the time nor the place. 

Roxxxy suddenly came scrambling through the control room door, earning a steely glare from Ganja as she pulled on an enormous pair of headphones. Detox cast her colleague a questioning gaze.

“Betty’s gone nuts. She wants Phi Phi to completely agree with Sharon on everything. The latest polls came in and apparently the majority were in favour of more refugees. Betty doesn’t want the party being hated more than they already are, so she wants Phi Phi to be in concurrence with the public.”

“Who the fuck did they poll, exclusively university campuses? What’s Phi doing?”

“Ignoring her. Which got me an earful of tinnitus from Betty, but Phi Phi’s put her foot down. The lady’s not for turning,” Roxxxy rolled her eyes, doing a sort of double-take as she saw Detox pull out her phone. Her face turned sour. “So you’re texting Guy all of this, then? Fucking couple goals.”

Willam was intrigued. There it was again, this reference to things not being perhaps all they should be between the two advisors. Roxxxy and Detox had always been close, the Tweedlebitch and Tweedlecunt of Phi Phi’s party, and this closeness had only increased when Alaska crossed the floor. Willam was left wondering what had happened.

Detox was fixing Roxxxy with a stare that suggested she was loath to bring this particular topic up in front of the opposite party. “Don’t start. We’ve discussed this.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying-”

“No, you’re not ‘just saying’. You’re being passive-aggressive and it’s getting on my tits,” Detox snapped at her. Roxxxy’s nostrils flared.

“Well maybe I’m just being aggressive!” she barked loudly, forcing Ganja to rip off her headphones and spin her chair round to face them both.

“Look,” she hissed, turning to address Roxxxy. “If you and that fucking inflatable dinghy don’t shut up right now, I’m removing you from this room. All of you.”

Annoyed that she’d been dropped in it, Willam glared at the two members of the opposition, but was distracted by Courtney pulling on her shirt sleeve.

“It’s starting,” she muttered, not once turning her gaze from the studio where Milk had begun introducing the topic.

“…and in the wake of Morgan McMichaels announcing that Scotland is to take twenty thousand new refugees over the next five years, we’re asking; should the rest of the UK be following in her footsteps? Discussing this with me today is Sharon Needles, Minister for Social Affairs and Citizenship-”

“Hi Milk, good to be here,” Sharon smiled easily, seemingly quite comfortable with the situation.

“-and the Right Honourable Phi Phi O’Hara MP, Shadow Minister,” he continued, gesturing to Phi Phi. Phi Phi sort of spluttered a hello.

“She doesn’t look entirely…comfortable, does she?” Courtney whispered, making Willam jump a bit. “Phi Phi, I mean.”

“She doesn’t. But that’s good news for us,” Willam replied, earning another smile from Courtney which had her wondering what had changed. Milk was still talking.

“…and of course, you can get involved in the debate as well on Twitter, at Radio Five Live or using the hashtag ‘gotmilk’.”

“Fuck’s sake. This is today’s journalistic standard. Hashtag ‘gotmilk’,” Willam snorted, earning herself a glare from Detox and Roxxxy.

“So, Phi Phi O’Hara,” Milk was continuing, smiling lazily at the shadow minister. “What do you think? Should we be welcoming more refugees to the UK?”

A beat of silence. “Um, well, it’s a very good question, and one that does not necessarily have a yes or no answer, but a list of pros and cons. It is one of these situations where both the pros and the cons must be lined up together, and, um, from there it should be examined which the longer list is, the pros or the, um, cons. Now, of course there are many pros, however in the UK-”

“Fucking hell, Phi Phi, answer the question,” Detox muttered under her breath, as Roxxxy shook her head disparagingly.

Phi Phi seemed to have finally reached the end of her point, whatever the hell it was, as Sharon had begun speaking.

“Well, I think I’d have to answer that same question in much fewer words than Phi Phi did over there, and say yes, I think this country should be welcoming many more refugees, and I think Morgan McMichaels has done a brilliant thing today in announcing these plans for Scotland. I think they’re definitely going to see much of an economic benefit, much more diversity, a much more enriched culture, and certainly a more tolerant society.”

“Sharon, you mentioned the economic benefit- could you expand a little on that?” Milk questioned.

“Certainly. Well, I think it’s easy to forget that the refugees that are seeking to move over here aren’t all unskilled, many of them will have been in work or education before their country got completely ripped to shreds. In this case, this provides a vast pool of skilled workers who can set up businesses, contribute to established businesses, and generally help the economy.”

Phi Phi’s face looked as if Sharon may as well have taken a shit on the desk in front of her. Milk seemed to pick up on this.

“Phi Phi O’Hara- do you agree?”

“No, I don’t agree, Milk, and to be honest I don’t think Sharon really knows what she’s talking about. You think-” Phi Phi turned to Sharon. “-that more jobs are going to be created by these people coming over here, when we’re currently on our way out of a recession and unemployment is at its highest in years, thanks to your party. If these refugees are as skilled as you say- which they’re not, by the way, they’re only really coming over here for the benefit system- it’s going to mean that our own citizens are out of work, struggling to provide for families, and potentially even becoming homeless.”

Sharon sat and listened to Phi Phi’s tirade, finally smiling and stretching out in her chair as if she was in her family home and not a radio studio. “First of all, you weren’t even aware of the fact that Scotland was going to welcome these refugees until you arrived at this studio half an hour ago, so don’t talk to me about knowing what I’m talking about when I have been campaigning for the safety of refugees since I was at university. Second of all-”

Willam actually punched the air. Sharon was killing it, and Phi Phi was coming across just plain jittery. She turned to Courtney excitedly but found her concentrating on what Sharon was saying in the studio. Too hyped to listen properly, Willam peered over Ganja’s shoulder at the Five Live twitter feed.

_Sharon is bae!!!! Love her!!!!! #gotmilk_

_lmao phi phi who #gotmilk_

_#gotmilk who is this lefty loony theyv got on this week? REFUGEES OUT THIS IS ARE COUNTRY #EDL #KNIGHTSTEMPLAR #PAULGOLDINGFORPM_

_#gotmilk interesting points from both sides but phi phi is winning for me atm_

_#gotmilk U TELL EM MOM @SharonNeedlesMP_

A mixed bag, but Willam would take what the party could get. She became aware that Sharon was still talking.

“…and finally, honestly? If refugees are as unskilled as you say but at the same time can still steal your job? You probably weren’t really that good at it in the first place.”

Willam almost yelped when she felt an excited grab at her wrist. Looking sharply to her left she saw Courtney beaming with pride at Sharon, who was now lazing back in her chair like a satisfied cat. Seemingly realising where she was, or what she’d done, or exactly whose wrist she was grabbing, Courtney suddenly dropped her hand back to her side, looking up at Willam meekly.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her cheeks flushing a little pink before returning her gaze back to the ground.

Deciding this might be the only possible available moment of the day where she would be able to build a bridge with Courtney, Willam turned slightly to face her. “Hey, Court? Once this is over, do you think we could maybe talk about-”

She was cut short by a vibration from her pocket and a life-ruining generic iPhone ringtone ringing out into the studio. Ganja spun around in her chair with such a force that it almost spun through the glass into the studio.

“OUT. NOW. NO PHONES!”

Sighing in irritation, Willam stormed outside, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Bianca.

“Hello?”

“I had no idea the BBC were hosting a barbecue, are you having fun?”

Taking the phone away from her ear and double-checking the caller ID, Willam returned to the call in confusion. “What?!”

“Well it’s just all I’m hearing on the radio is Phi Phi O’Hara being absolutely roasted.”

Rolling her eyes a little, Willam held in an irritated hiss. “And you phoned to tell me this why exactly?”

“Hey! Stick that attitude far up your ass, you moaning bitch!” Bianca immediately snapped back, all joviality gone from her voice. Willam winced a little. “I wasn’t phoning you for the express purpose of making jokes, does it look like this government is being policed by Frankie Boyle to you?!”

Willam wanted to reply that sometimes it did with the amount that Bianca swore, but she thought better of it. “So why did you phone me then?”

“As great as Sharon’s doing, she’s coming across like a smug Poxbridge twat who’s just won her first debate and is about to piss her pants. Get her to tone it down a bit, will you?”

Willam shrugged, not completely disagreeing with Bianca. Sharon’s style of debate hadn’t really changed since uni and her years at the stock exchange really showed. She concluded that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get Sharon to reign in the smugness.

“Right. I’ll try and communicate that to her, Bianca, but you see it’s a bit difficult when there’s a massive fuck-off pane of soundproof glass between me and my boss. “

“Drop that attitude or I’ll dropkick you into the Thames! Get it done!” Bianca yelled down the phone, her voice gone immediately after, indicating that she had hung up.

Willam internally bemoaned Bianca’s erratic mood swings as she headed back into the control room, Ganja giving her a sour look as she returned to her place beside Courtney. Phi Phi was currently rabbiting on about how immigration spelt the end for Britain, whilst Sharon was sitting back in her chair, feet up on the studio desk.

Milk looked displeased.

“Bianca’s right,” Willam thought aloud, then jumped a little as she felt Courtney’s eyes on her. “She just phoned me there. Wants Sharon to tone it down, and we’re supposed to get that message through to her.”

“Right. Well. That shouldn’t be too hard,” Courtney frowned, only slightly frosty. “Does Sharon know sign language?”

“She barely knows fucking English,” Willam muttered, sighing in exasperation as Sharon began to refute Phi Phi’s point with the same lazy smugness she’d displayed throughout the whole interview. “We could signal something to her?”

Courtney’s brow furrowed before she turned to the clear glass of the studio and started miming pushing her hands down rapidly. Willam watched her in severe disbelief, fleetingly wondering why she harboured such strong feelings for someone who was clearly such a massive blithering idiot. It seemed to be catching Sharon’s attention though, so dutifully Willam began miming the same action.

Sharon began to trail off, looking at them both incredulously. In fact all three people in the studio were giving them awestruck looks. Wishing and willing Sharon to understand what the fuck they both meant, Willam kept pushing her hands down in the hope that she’d get the message.

“Um…as I was saying, we have to remember that Britain is a country that is built on diversity and multiculturalism, and I do have to wonder what would happen to that if we suddenly stopped allowing- or deporting, as Phi Phi is arguing- immigrants and refugees,” Sharon continued, in a voice about three octaves lower than her normal tone. Willam physically slapped her palm to her forehead.

“Why the hell would she think we were talking about her fucking pitch?!” Willam ranted, as Courtney attempted to change tact by mouthing furiously to the clear glass. Out the corner of her eye, Willam could see Detox and Roxxxy sniggering in the corner. Bristling with rage, she decided that at that current moment she had bigger fish to fry. Turning back to Courtney, she noticed that she was mouthing “TONE IT DOWN” furiously, ignoring the judgemental glares of Roxxxy and Detox. As Phi Phi rebutted Sharon’s point, Sharon was just staring at Courtney completely dumbfounded.

“It’s not working,” Willam sighed, as Courtney ran her hands through her hair in frustration. She looked good when she did that.

God, Willam wished more than anything that they were on good terms.

Shaking all unprofessional thoughts out of her head, Willam was suddenly hit with a brainwave.

“Do you have lipstick with you?” she turned to address Courtney. Appearing a little affronted by Willam’s blunt turn of phrase, Courtney raised her eyebrows and scrambled into her bag.

“Sure. Here.”

Grabbing it from Courtney’s hand, Willam fleetingly noticed it was MAC. Well, she hoped Courtney wasn’t particularly attached to this colour.

Without even hesitating, Willam wrenched the cap off and scrawled backwards on the glass the very three words Courtney had been mouthing through the pane just seconds ago. “TONE IT DOWN” now sat very boldly written in reverse, almost like a shriek against the clear glass.

And then a lot of things happened very quickly.

Sharon muttered “what the fuck?” very quietly to herself under her breath. There was a split second before Willam realised that the reason she’d heard her mutter it was because Sharon’s microphone had been switched on. Milk, partly in shock, stammered a choked apology, and then a hastily-tacked on link to the pre-recorded news. Ganja swore loudly, ripped off her headphones and stormed out of the room, presumably to find out from The Powers That Be how much the BBC was going to get fined this time, or maybe to find out how many complaints they’d received already. Courtney, who was frozen still, her mouth hanging open in shock, began to get a phone call. Willam didn’t even have to look to see who it was from. Becoming un-frozen and seemingly snapping back into a workplace android, Courtney looked at her phone, gave Willam a look that could curdle milk, then rushed out the room.

“Hi, Bianca- yes I know…”

In all the chaos, Willam had quite forgotten Detox and Roxxxy were in the room. They were both looking at her with punchable, smug smiles.

“Nice one, Willam,” Roxxxy smirked, leaning back against the wall calmly.

Willam didn’t even have a retort because, to give her her dues, Roxxxy was absolutely right.

***

“Oh, girl, I’ve got to give you credit. I haven’t laughed that much since…well. Probably quite recently. But it was an absolutely biblical shitshow.”

Willam rolled her eyes as she sat in the green room, Katya gabbing down the phone to her at a tremendous pace. “Yeah, well. We’ve got the last laugh because you guys have to field all the phone calls that must be flooding the department right now.”

“Are you kidding? This shit’s easy. No comment, no comment, no comment. Why do you think my smoke break’s been 15 minutes long? There’s nothing to do.”

“Well you could be listening to the damn thing.”

“Well what are you doing on the phone to me?” Katya reasoned, Willam hearing her taking a drag of a cigarette faintly down the line. She sighed. To be honest, she was just planning on hiding out in the green room until the whole thing was over. She’d been responsible for one of the biggest political fuck-ups someone could make, and she didn’t really feel she was in a position to give any political advice for some length of time. She didn’t know how Courtney was doing in there on her own. She didn’t really think to check on her. She didn’t want to make things worse. Christ, she was a fucking idiot.

Sitting in the green room had been interesting, though. During a break for sports news, she’d seen Detox and Roxxxy rush down the corridor in some sort of fury, and a kind of hushed argument had ensued. Roxxxy had been on the way to raising her voice in a furious crescendo, but had suddenly been cut off by something. Willam reflected on the situation. Maybe Detox and Roxxxy were fucking. Maybe this was what Courtney had meant those few weeks ago, about being more perceptive.

A sudden thought struck Willam. There was a correlation between that moment and when Courtney had started being weird with her. Why was that? What had happened then that had offended her so much? Before she could even think about it in any greater depth, she was jolted out of her daydream.

“Willam? Are you still there?”

Shaking her head, Willam tried to focus. “Yeah, sorry Katya. I was kind of in my own world.”

“Well, I guess I should let you go do your job. Love you lots. Try not to set the entire studios on fire as a grand finale.”

“That would be how this day would end,” Willam quipped as a sign-off, as she hit end call and tucked her phone back into the pouch in her bag. She supposed she should keep listening to the debate. From how it sounded, they were in the process of taking some phone calls and texts from the public. Always a great idea, thought Willam sarcastically. The pubic could always be trusted to have really great and sound opinions.

Phi Phi seemed to be answering someone’s phone call, her jitteriness now clearly back. The person who’d asked the question hadn’t seemed too happy, by what Willam had heard in the background of her phone call with Katya. Still, Phi Phi seemed to have done her best to answer whatever the question was, and now they were taking a phone call from,

“George in Tottenham Hale, let’s hear from you. I think you have a question for Sharon, is that right?” Milk’s voice came through the small speakers. What followed was a deep Ugandan voice, slightly tinged by what was clearly a couple of years in London.

“Yes, my question is for Sharon. It is a bit surprising to me to hear you are supportive of refugees and immigrants.”

Willam began to feel a sense of dread creeping over her. What the hell was coming next? She reached into her bag for her phone again, getting the horrible feeling that she might be needing it within the next few minutes. George continued on.

“I come to this country two years ago, I get a job with a cleaning company. We do big contracts and things, for big companies. And the government hired us to do the offices at Richmond Terrace, and the new offices of Sharon’s department.”

Suddenly, a harsh vibration from Willam’s phone made her heart beat of out her chest. A text from Bianca.

_B: THERE IS A GLACIER OF SHIT ABOUT TO SINK US. I’M COMING IN. BE PREPARED._

If Willam was filled with horror before, then this only made her heart drop out of her stomach. As George carried on, Willam had to fight the urge to spew her insides out onto the green room’s floor.

“So we are working for the government, Sharon’s government, and she is here talking about the economic benefits of immigration, but they are paying us the very minimum wage, for five hours of work on the nightshift every day. So why does her government support this? It is cheap labour, and she is paying the company that supports our exploitation. She is exploiting us.”

A beat of silence was somewhat deafening on the speakers of the green room.

“Sharon Needles, how do you respond to that?” Milk spoke, obviously trying to inject some noise into the silence.

“Well. Um, that’s obviously a very serious accusation, and one which we will be working hard to-”

Willam never got to hear what Sharon would be working hard to do, as suddenly from the other end of the corridor came a dull yet frantic rumbling of high heels against a carpeted floor. Courtney was a blur past the glass of the green room until she came hurtling through its door, facing Willam with more urgency than she’d shown in a long time.

“We need to sort this out. This is a shitshow,” she gasped, hair all over her face. “You did hear that, yeah?”

“Yeah, Court, but the whole reason I’m here is because I fucked up,” Willam looked to the floor, a little embarrassed. “I don’t want to make things worse. It’s not my day, and you’re totally able to fix this. Alaska’s on the other end of the phone, just…I don’t know. Call her.”

Willam was shocked when Courtney took three little steps forward, fury written all over her face. For a moment, it looked as if she was going to slap her. She didn’t. Instead, she laid into her.

“Now, look! You’re Willam, god damn it! You can’t just give up because it’s ‘not your day’, that’s not how this shit works!” she yelled, pointing a single manicured finger in her face. Seemingly calming down a little, she ran a hand through her blonde waves of hair. “Now Bianca’s going to be here in…fifteen minutes now. And she’s going to expect us to have some sort of plan for mopping up this hurricane of piss, and how else are you going to redeem yourself in her eyes than to be the ringleader of the whole thing? The party needs you. I need you.”

Courtney’s words shocked Willam into locking eyes with her. Seeming to realise what she’d said, a pink flush tinted Courtney’s cheeks and she opened her mouth to backtrack. “That’s not- you know what I mean. We’re a team. And you can’t…you can’t just give up because of one fuck-up. The Willam I know wouldn’t do that.”

There was a silence in which Willam tried to figure out how to respond. She was a little irritated with Courtney herself; the fact that she was insisting they were a team only now when it was convenient to her and the situation, all the amazing things Courtney was saying about her probably just being a front to get her to do something about this fuckery. There was also that little bump in Courtney’s telling-off, “I need you”. It would be easy just to question her about that, and shit, Courtney was actually really up in her face, really close to her face, and there was still some sort of tension in the air, and she still hadn’t broken her gaze and God, it actually hurt how much she couldn’t be mad at her for long. Blinking twice, Willam sighed deeply and rubbed a hand down her face, disregarding all her perfectly-applied makeup. Her mind began working at a hundred miles an hour.

“Right, make sure that Jinkx and her minions know the line. Of course, we don’t actually know what the line is because Bianca’s not here, but just tell them that we’re looking into it, stress Sharon’s commitment to fair employment for refugees and immigrants, and that this doesn’t affect her standing or the validity of her opinions. Should we make a donation to someplace?”

“Hmm, maybe not. If the press got hold of it, they could say it was just a reactionary measure. And the press are quite likely to get hold of it, given that we’re probably going to be under scrutiny for about a fortnight at least,” Courtney offered, biting her lip nervously.

“Good point,” Willam nodded, her heart swelling a little at how well they were working together already as Courtney began typing a message, presumably to Jinkx. Maybe Courtney had forgiven her for whatever she’d done already. Tearing a hand through her hair, Willam had to remind herself to focus on the matter at hand. “Okay, no donations. In the meantime, let’s maybe try to get some information about this guy, see if there’s anything we can use against him, anything that makes his stance void.”

Courtney stopped typing suddenly, looking up at Willam with concern in her eyes. “Willam that’s…that’s smearing.”

“Yeah, and?”

“That’s kind of Bianca’s domain. We don’t really do that unless it’s under her jurisdiction. Do you have any idea the shit you could get into if it got out that you instigated something like this?” Courtney mumbled, panic tinging her voice as her thumbs hovered over her phone screen. Pausing for a second to think it through, Willam could faintly hear Phi Phi’s smug voice laying into Sharon about what a hypocrite she was. That made her decision for her.

“We’re doing it. If it gets out, I’ll take the hit,” Willam said simply. Courtney looked momentarily as if she’d just been shot through the stomach, but dutifully she continued to type.

“Okay, so we’re going with smear campaign and promote Sharon. Am I sending this?” she sucked in a breath of air through her teeth. Willam gave a curt nod and with that, Courtney’s thumb hit a single button on her phone.

“God, it’s sent. Okay. Now what do we do?” she asked, fear written across her face. “Should one of us go back to the control room and keep listening to see if anything develops?”

“Right. You do that. I’ll let you know when Bianca gets here. Hopefully she’ll have a way to help,” Willam reasoned. Courtney smiled hesitantly, making to turn and leave for the studio. Seeing the worry on her face, Willam reached out and gently touched her arm. The softness of the action surprised both of them, and Willam drew her hand back quickly.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine,” she finally said, managing to muster a confident smile from somewhere. To her shock, Courtney fixed her with the most genuine smile she’d seen from her in weeks.

“I know it will. You’re involved,” she replied, looking quickly to the floor and rushing out of the green room, leaving Willam at peak confusion.

The ten minutes before Bianca arrived consisted of firstly of just initial googling. There wasn’t much that Willam had to go on, other than “George from Tottenham Hale”, but with the right keywords she managed to find a second name, which she immediately forwarded to Jinkx. She wasn’t sure how they were all doing back at the department. She was a little afraid to ask.

When Bianca arrived, she knew about it. Along the corridor, Willam heard the thumping of a pair of very distinctive heels, and she could tell immediately that she was there. Standing up quickly and preparing for a roasting, Willam tensed up as Bianca entered the green room, dressed in a tailored blue suit and giving her a look that could’ve frozen lava.

“Where’s Australian Idol?” Bianca quipped dryly, setting down her Mulberry bag on the small glass coffee table and looking Willam dead in the eye.

“She’s in the studio keeping tabs on things. We’re currently trying to-”

“Nope! Not interested. Don’t want to hear from you. Go get her.”

Holding in a massive sigh, Willam trotted along to the studio. She had known Bianca was going to be mad at her, but she could only prepare so much for her disappointment. The main thing was, Willam reminded herself, that Bianca was here now, and if anyone could get this mess back in order then it was her.

Willam didn’t even have to say anything to Courtney as she stuck her head through the door of the control room. She immediately came running out, and they both walked in silence down the corridor to meet Bianca. When they got to the green room she was sat quite menacingly on the sofa, and had taken her suit jacket off and flung it over its headrest. She meant business.

“Right, any bright ideas from either of you about how to fix this fucking abomination? Because I’d love to hear them. I’m sure whatever it is it won’t be as good as Willam’s greatest hit from earlier, take a simple task and fuck it up to the point where Sharon makes one of the biggest media blunders a politician could make!” she barked, as Courtney and Willam stood in front of her like two disgraced schoolchildren.

Courtney began their defence. “Well, we thought that the line should be that this doesn’t undermine Sharon at all, she’s looking into it, and that delivering fair employment opportunities for immigrants and refugees is still one of her unwavering top priorities.”

Bianca seemed to relax only slightly. “That’s not bad. Good work, Courtney.”

“Actually it was mainly Willam’s idea,” Courtney said quietly, Willam raising her head to meet Bianca’s eyes. Bianca’s cold stare didn’t seem to have that icy edge anymore, but she supposed that hoping for praise was pushing things a bit far.

“Okay. Anything else?”

“We’ve…said to comms that they’re to look for information on the man that phoned in- anything that we could use against him, anything that we could put about, things like that,” Courtney said a little hesitantly. Bianca’s glare darkened.

“That’s fucking smearing! You both know that! That falls under my purview, I do the smearing, you guys get the information for me to make it happen. Do you have any idea the fucking river of shit you are going to have to stay afloat in if it gets out to the press that you are trying to run a smear campaign against this fucking individual? That’s not going to look so good for this party, will it?!”

Willam winced. “It was entirely my idea, Bianca. Courtney did point it out but we didn’t have much time to act and we had to do something.”

“Well here’s something to do for next time. Use your fucking brain cells,” Bianca hissed, standing up from the sofa and giving Willam a look that could wilt flowers. “Have we put anything out about this man yet?”

“No, that’s for certain. Last I spoke to Jinkx they hadn’t found anything on him yet. Willam found his second name, but that’s all we have,” Courtney confirmed, her stance like that of an army soldier as she addressed Bianca. Willam suddenly felt a vibration from her phone. Glancing at it, a text had popped up on her screen.

“Alaska’s just told me she has the name of his cleaning company. Maybe our tactic should be to smear them? Expose them for their poor wages?” Willam suggested, in the vague hope that Bianca would agree. Instead, she frowned and shook her head rapidly.

“Nobody is smearing anyone or anything until I give the green light, tell Alaska that for starters. Jesus, right. See if they can get more information about the company. Find out its boss, see if he’s hiding a lovechild in a fucking cupboard anywhere. Until then, we do nothing,” Bianca sighed deeply, seemingly much more relaxed now she was in control of the situation again. Willam did as she was told and began messaging Alaska.

In the few minutes that followed, there was a flurry of activity in the studios. Roxxxy, Detox and Phi Phi sprinted down the corridor, with a yell from Phi Phi which Willam could make out as “Why is Betty coming in?!”. Before she could even react to that information, Sharon appeared in the green room looking visibly shaken.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know anything about this. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on,” she babbled, looking frantically from Willam, then Courtney, and finally Bianca. 

“Might want to tone down the swearing. Didn’t seem to work out too well earlier,” Bianca replied dryly, severely unimpressed.

Courtney turned to Sharon and put her hands on her shoulders reassuringly, “It’s okay, we’re on it. In the meantime, try and keep pushing that new policy of yours; the housing one for refugees.”

“But-”

“I know it’s only in its preliminary stages,” Courtney shook her head. “But it’s the best we’ve got at the moment, and you need to redeem yourself. Just keep banging on about it until we can get something to cool this situation down.” 

“We’ve got five minutes til we need to be back in. I need to- I need to speak to Alaska,” Sharon stammered, worry thickly coating every word she spoke. Bianca and Courtney shared an odd look.

“Why Alaska?” Bianca asked swiftly, her eyes questioning. Sharon’s face suddenly drained of all its colour. Willam suddenly felt like she had to step in.

“Alaska’s the only advisor left at the department right now. She’s going to give us a perspective that we maybe haven’t thought about.”

Silently, Willam handed Sharon her phone, Sharon’s hands shaking as she took it from her. As Sharon left the room, she shot Willam a look of gratitude. Bianca gave her a side glance as she disappeared down the corridor.

“Okay, you two, keep digging. I’m going to make a few phone calls,” she said decisively, rising from her position on the sofa and leaving the room. Willam rolled her eyes a little. As long as Sharon was speaking to Alaska, she couldn’t really do anything. She began thinking about the three members of the opposition.

“Did I hear right earlier? Did they say that Betty was coming in?” Willam asked Courtney softly. Courtney furrowed her brow in thought.

“That’s weird. They must know something we don’t. Something must be brewing for them too,” she said slowly, realisation dawning on her. “They must be worried that we’re digging into this. They’re involved in some way!”

Willam’s heart leapt as Courtney began bouncing on her own seat excitedly. “We just need to uncover whatever it is they’re worrying about.”

About a minute later, the three girls from the opposing party jogged past the clear glass of the green room again. Sharon raced back into the room behind them and chucked Willam her phone back.

“Thanks girl. I’ve got about a minute to get back. You’ve got a text from Katya, by the way,” she said quickly, out of breath as she quickly ran back to the studio. A little confused, and more than a little disorientated at the pace at which things were moving, Willam opened up the text wordlessly. She could see from the outset that something was attached to it.

_K: OMFG!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

A screenshot of a text conversation. When Willam hit her thumb against the screen, the image became clearer- a conversation between Katya and Trannika, except only Trannika had sent anything.

_“Holy fuck girl!!! Your man on the radio- I thought I recognised his voice and then it clicked! He cleans for us as well! George comes in on the Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and does the shadow offices. Bob & co are shitting themselves!! Betty is on her way in to Five Live to firefight in case anything goes down!! I’m going to need a strong fuckin whisky tonight I’ll tell u that for nothing xo”_

“Shit!” Willam exclaimed involuntarily, prompting Courtney to crane her neck and read the text over Willam’s shoulder. “That’s it. We’ve got them. That’s why they were all running around the studio like chickens with their dicks cut off. Go tell Bianca!”

Courtney gave a little squeal, almost tripping over herself as she sped out of the green room to find Bianca. Willam was experiencing a sort of adrenaline rush. It was stressful at times, but this was what she loved the absolute most about this job; there was no better feeling than knowing you had the upper hand over the other party.

Bianca suddenly came storming in with Courtney, her face hard as marble, not quite seeming as overjoyed with the finding as Willam had been. Wordlessly, she held out an open palm in front of Willam.

“Let’s see.”

Obediently, Willam handed her her phone, still open on the screenshot of Trannika’s text. She watched as Bianca’s huge owl eyes darted across the screen, then as she almost threw the phone back into Willam’s possession. As she turned on her heel, she barked a “follow me” to no-one in particular. After sharing a quick glance, Courtney and Willam followed after her as she charged full speed ahead towards the control room. Bursting through its door, she instantly rounded on Detox. Willam had often heard the phrase “looked as if she’d shat herself” used facetiously, but only now could she with complete certainty say that this was the embodiment of Detox’s expression. Clearly she hadn’t encountered Bianca since she leaked information about Sharon’s DWI to Phi Phi, and by the looks of it she was frantically attempting to make peace with the fact that her death was imminent. She opened her mouth in an attempt to say or do something, but Bianca simply uttered one word.

“Phone,” she said calmly, holding out her open hand almost as a prompt. As Detox’s expression took on one of bemusement, Bianca simply followed her one word up with another, firmer and with an edge. “Now.”

Detox began scrambling to get her phone from her bag. As Roxxxy watched the exchange with nothing less than pure fear in her eyes, Ganja turned around in her chair, annoyance painted all over her face.

“Excuse me, what in the hell do you think you’re-”

“You turn the fuck back around in that chair and just concentrate on doing your job or I will loop my fingers round those fucking metal hula hoops stapled into your ears and do a Miss Trunchbull hammer throw on your imitation ghetto ass!” Bianca snapped without missing a single beat. Silently, as if she hadn’t quite yet processed the extent of Bianca’s wrath, the shocked producer swivelled back around. Near ripping the phone out of Detox’s hand, Bianca turned and left the control room, leading Willam and Courtney to the corridor outside.

“Watch my moves,” Bianca said, near out of breath, presumably as a result of her heart hammering in her chest the same way Willam’s was currently doing now. “What’s the number for texts to the studio?”

“08442,” Courtney reeled off without missing a beat. Catching Willam’s questioning look, she gave her a quick, amused smile. “I’ve been listening to this godforsaken debate for nigh on two hours now. That number’s practically engraved into my ear canal.”

Willam watched curiously as Bianca started typing, thumbs going like mad against Detox’s phone screen. Soon enough, she had a text waiting to be sent.

_“Phi Phi is a hypocrite! The opposition also employs the same cleaning company as Sharon’s government and has them working more days! Know your facts before you start tearing others down! Julie in Brighton.”_

Before Willam could comment on Bianca’s chosen pseudonym, Bianca had sent the text in, then gone to sent items and deleted it from history. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

“And that’s how it’s done,” Bianca finally smiled at the two advisors, some semblance of relaxed even though her frown lines were now engraved into her heavy foundation as a result of all the stressing she’d been doing for the past half hour or so. Willam shot a relieved smile at Courtney, who sent one back her way and consequently made her heart melt. Heart still hammering in her chest, Willam was about to compliment Bianca on her quick actions when a sudden voice from one end of the corridor made her jump.

“By ‘it’ do you mean stirring up a shitstorm for my party in the press which I’m now going to need to clean up?” It was a tall woman, some of her height coming from her impossibly tall electric blue heels. Her outfit didn’t exactly scream ‘politics’- black leggings with an electric blue fitted shirt and a crazy, floral patterned blazer- but then neither did her hair, which was white blonde with bright pink coursing through every other strand. Her makeup was wild and erratic, blue and black like her outfit, with a shocking pink lip pierced with a ring right through its centre. If Willam hadn’t known who she was, she would never have guessed that this was Bianca’s opposite number- “Acid” Betty Ruhren, so-called because she had a reputation for corroding anyone who happened to get on the wrong side of her via the media. Everyone except Bianca, that is, who she seemed to hold a kind of respect for. They were in the same game, and Betty seemed to recognise this, so Bianca had never ended up in the press. Now, however, she didn’t seem to look particularly happy. Decidedly acidic, Willam thought.

“Elizabeth, how wonderful of you to join us. Should I pile us all in to the control room? Your advisors are in there now, I feel it would really add to the party atmosphere,” Bianca smiled acridly. She looked as if she was making to add something, but Betty cut right in.

“Don’t give me that shit. You’re here to cause trouble.”

Bianca glared at her. “You’re here to save your own ass, and I know exactly what you’re trying to cover up.”

Betty’s eyes shot from Bianca’s face to the phone in her hand, the cogs clearly turning in her brain. There was a beat of silence, in which Willam could hear Milk’s voice from the studio.

“…and has them working more days, know your facts before you start tearing others down. Phi Phi O’Hara, quite a serious accusation there from Julie in Brighton-”

Bianca gave a small smile of satisfaction as Betty’s face darkened.

“Julie from Brighton. Is that what you’re going by these days?”

“I don’t know. It’s a whole lot better than having the same nickname as a main ingredient of bile,” Bianca shrugged, whipping her head round quickly as the door to the control room swung open and Detox and Roxxxy flew out.

“Betty, we didn’t think it would get out as fast as it did,” Roxxxy began, her eyes wide with panic as she addressed the spin doctor. Bianca nonchalantly handed Detox her phone back. Guiltily and silently, Detox slid it back into her bag, at once knowing full well what had happened. Completely oblivious to the exchange, Betty addressed Roxxxy calmly.

“It’s under control. Just go back in and make sure Phi doesn’t choke on her own tongue or some shit like that. I’ve got business out here to attend to,” she said forebodingly. Roxxxy cast a side glance at Willam before slinking back into the control room, Detox following behind her like a disgraced puppy. The door swung shut behind the two advisors. At once business-like again, Betty took one large step towards Bianca.

“You know what would go down horribly on your end? If I go to the press about the prostitutes that lovely John from the Ministry of Justice has been renting out like fucking Blockbuster DVDs every Saturday night. Somehow I think that would kick up a bit of a fuss, don’t you?”

“A man taking his sister out for dinner on a weekly basis- yes, his sister!- is actually a lovely wholesome tale that I’m sure the press would consider a non-story. What wouldn’t be considered a non-story is your not-so-lovely Anthony from your education department getting a bit too enthusiastic slapping his wife about, fucking gave her a black eye?”

Betty bristled as Courtney’s expression grew horrified. “That was a domestic accident, Bianca, and you know it.”

“Domestic accident, oh what, because he’s got hands the size of fucking flatpack wardrobes?” Bianca shot back incredulously.

“Yes, a domestic accident. What about Jade Jolie’s domestic accident, the one she got from sleeping around a little too much over at Richmond Terrace? Three potential Dads, but none of them her actual fucking husband, I reckon that would be a bit of a PR disaster for your party!”

“It wouldn’t be a PR disaster because- that is a fucking crock of shit!” Bianca laughed, rolling her eyes. Willam was in awe. It was as if the two spin doctors had quite forgotten she and Courtney were both there, and now here they were, caught in the crossfire of some form of smear war. Bianca was still going. “However, I have a photo, that I can get blown up to canvas size, of your shadow defence minister coming out of the toilets at Nobu with his nose covered in cocaine! What’s your defence to that going to be, eh? ‘Oh well you know Nigel, he’s just a really keen baker!’”

“I have tweets I can take down to Snappy Snaps and get blown up to fucking charity cheque size, from the account of your foreign secretary, except he doesn’t really seem to like foreign people all that much judging by the incredibly unironic use of the n word like punctuation in every 140 characters!”

“Your party’s been getting a lot of positive coverage by the Guardian recently, does that have anything to do with the new editor, you know, the one with the huge hair and the eyeliner? I’ve heard stories of you skulking around Camden recently, Betty, and I never really thought that was your scene? Or am I wrong?”

“DON’T FUCKING-” Betty raised her voice very suddenly as she momentarily forgot where she was, clearly having had a nerve hit. Darting her eyes from Courtney to Willam, she gave Bianca a sheepish glance, who in turn was looking at her as if she’d just won a third world war. Betty took one very laborious breath.

“Look,” she began, her voice much quieter. “How about this. We both issue a statement, saying that neither of our girls were in full possession of the facts. But both parties are in the process of employing a new company, and we’re going to be focusing on our stance towards a fairer working wage in the coming weeks.”

Respect seemingly regained, Bianca seemed to become less tense. “You carry on like that and I might not find you so grossly fucking reprehensible.”

Sniffing and then giving a little nod, Betty let go a breath she had been holding. As the atmosphere quietened, Willam became aware of Milk’s theme song playing, signalling the end of the programme. The studio door opened and out emerged a wearied-looking Dan Donigan, a Phi Phi with a face like thunder, and a Sharon that looked as if she’d been put through a wash and dry cycle. Ignoring Bianca, Willam and Courtney, she simply turned and walked towards the lifts.

The only thing she said into the echoing of the corridor was simply, “I need a fucking bath, my vibrator, and fifty tramadol.”

Same, was Willam’s only thought, as Roxxxy and Detox skulked out of the control room and off down towards the exit. They seemed to be holding hands, and Willam thought briefly about her theory from earlier.

“Well, all’s well that ends well,” Bianca raised her eyebrows sarcastically, making to head towards the green room. “Good work today, Courtney. Willam- step your shit up.”

Willam wanted to kick herself as Bianca walked off towards the exit. Turning on her heel, she slowly made her way towards the bathroom and couldn’t help but wonder if the sinks would be big enough to drown herself in after this utter turd of a day. 

***

As Willam slung her bag over her right shoulder and winced slightly under its weight, she turned to leave and jumped a little when she saw a silent Courtney in the doorway of the green room. She looked a little embarrassed and slightly nervous about the fact she was there. The gentle hum of the omnipresent radio in the background and the quiet tick of the clock were the only ones to speak.

“Hey,” Courtney began nervously, smiling slightly as she took one small step forward. “That was really great, what you did today.”

“What we did,” Willam corrected her, not really sure what tone to take so deciding to keep things neutral. For a moment Courtney was silent, tucking a little strand of hair behind her ear awkwardly and exposing a hint of a pink blush.

Finally she let out a big sigh and began talking. “Look Willam, I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting recently. I’ve been a massive dick for not really much good reason and it’s not okay.”

The first reaction Willam had was one of total, complete, all-encompassing relief. Courtney wasn’t mad at her anymore, or was never mad at her to begin with. She still wanted to be friends, maybe even something more. Well, Willam couldn’t really get her hopes up all that high, but she was still slightly euphoric that Courtney was finally okay with her again and right now anything seemed possible. Noticing how Courtney was still shyly waiting for her response, Willam broke into a smile.

“C’mere, you stupid bitch,” she snorted, opening her arms in a hug whilst deciding she couldn’t break free from the platonic realm just yet. With relief washing over Courtney’s face, she stumble-ran into Willam’s arms, hugging her tightly in a way that made Willam’s heart swell. All at once she knew the old Courtney was back.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured again into Willam’s hair, and Willam privately thanked God for this little moment of reconciliation.

“Come on, you know I don’t hold grudges. Well, not against my friends.”

“You have every right to, though.”

“Well, I’m not going to. So stop worrying,” Willam muttered back, acutely aware that Courtney hadn’t yet shifted from Willam’s arms, seemingly not going anywhere anytime soon. “Are you alright though? Anything you want to talk about?”

Suddenly Courtney became unstuck and pulled away from the hug, pulling the sleeves of her jumper over her hands self-consciously. “Yeah…no, I’m fine. Just was struggling with something for a couple weeks. You know, a kind of inner battle?”

As Courtney laughed awkwardly, Willam indulged her with a nod, still not entirely sure what she was referring to. She was happy, though, that whatever Courtney had been struggling with was clearly over. She decided to change topic altogether.

“So, Alyssa’s next week. You still going?”

Courtney smiled. “Yeah, ‘course. If only to stop Sharon getting completely wrecked and vomiting on the shoes of the PM’s wife, or something equally Sharon-esque.”

“I think it’ll be fun. Running around after her and cleaning up her mess like she’s a toddler. How else would you want to spend a Saturday night?”

Willam delighted in the way Courtney’s face scrunched up as she laughed, concluding that it was probably the thing she’d missed most of all about her. Glancing at the clock, she realised that it was past nine.

“Listen, it’s getting late. Do you want to share a cab back? I think Sharon was so done with today she’s probably just taken the car and fucked off,” she laughed a little, holding back a quip about Alaska after remembering yet again that that wasn’t public knowledge just yet. It would be eventually, of course. Nothing could stay secret forever. Looking back at Courtney and her face all lit up in a smile, she reconsidered. Maybe some things could. As Courtney simply nodded twice in affirmation, Willam walked forward and, deciding to fuck platonic intent to one side, threaded an arm through Courtney’s. She didn’t pull away, and as the two made their way to the exit of these godforsaken studios, Willam realised she was leaving work without a heavy heart for the first time in over a fortnight.


	5. Chapter 5

Question: How do you draw attention from a terrifyingly massive fuck-up of an interview?

Answer: Find redemption.

Except nothing was happening in politics the week before Christmas Day, so there was no way to find this redemption. Willam had already bore witness to the verbal colonic Bianca had thrown Sharon’s way in the wake of the Five Live interview, slapping down the day’s newspapers on her desk which had both Sharon and Phi Phi’s faces on their front looking incredibly sheepish. So Sharon had stayed low for the past week or so, the girls in the office flinging all their efforts behind her refugee housing policy ready for its release by New Year, when Sharon, Alaska and Violet would make the trip over to Brussels. Jinkx had even been behind its horrifically cheesy slogan- Sharon is caring- which made no sense if it wasn’t read in an American accent, but was sadly still the best efforts of a collective group of 5.

Willam was glad, though. Work had been incredibly high-octane of late and it was nice for the department to go into Christmas without feeling as if Bianca was throwing them at a hundred miles per hour towards a wall made of nails, broken glass, and fire. She didn’t know it was possible for the comms team to be even more laid-back than they already were, but they were; Trixie and Katya both on Amazon for each other’s Christmas presents whilst the other wasn’t looking, Jinkx on the phone to someone enquiring about Christmas turkeys, and Violet and Adore not even remotely disguising the fact they were watching Love Actually instead of doing their job. Occasionally an email would be sent or a phone would be picked up, but overall it was all quiet on the Westminster front.

It was great to see Courtney relaxed and happy again too. Their friendship was now completely mended and back to normal after the wobble of before, Courtney now even seeming a little more warm and like her out-of-work self, although that was probably down to the fact it was so close to the holiday season. Every day she would come into work more excited for Christmas than the day before and her cheerfulness was beginning to rub off on Willam, despite the fact that she hated the 25th of December with a burning passion. The pressure to be happy, especially with family, on Christmas Day was frightening and Willam dreaded it more and more each year. But somehow Courtney made her feel a bit better about it all, her voice lilting through the office and making Michael Buble that bit more bearable.

Their work wasn’t completely over, however. There was still one tiny little hurdle the department had to jump before they could celebrate Christmas, and that was Alyssa Edwards’ charity ball at the Dorchester. Alyssa was a Baroness, extremely wealthy and a member of the House of Lords, and yet somehow she wasn’t a complete and utter arsehole. Alyssa was well-renowned for using her money for good, setting up two childrens’ charities and using her wealth and notoriety to encourage everyone who was anyone in politics to donate to them. This ball was no exception, and there would be a lot of big names attending. Willam couldn’t help but feel a little excited. Darienne had never been extended an invite before, and therefore neither had her advisors. But presumably Alyssa had seen something of worth in Sharon, and so this was the first year that Willam had been invited to attend too. Sure, the whole night would really be about politics but she would rather be business networking surrounded by champagne and canapes than the same old scenery of the office.

It was for that reason that Willam arrived to work on the Friday morning absolutely buzzing for the evening ahead. It had been ages since she’d had the chance to dress up and admittedly she was looking forward to a night of mingling and experiencing how the other half lived. Walking from the lift to the corridor and into Dosac’s offices, she felt there was a similar sort of buzz in the air. Even the comms team were chatting excitedly.

“Morning, slagbags,” Willam hollered into the office, met with a couple of yells back. As she flung her bag and coat down on her desk, Courtney shot across the office on her wheely chair, making a beeline for where Willam stood.

“Will, oh my God! I’m so excited for tonight, I’ve been looking forward to it since literally forever,” she babbled, speaking at about seventy miles an hour and causing Willam to simply blink at her with both amusement and affection. 

“Yeah, you sound it,” she joked, flinching as Courtney walloped her on the arm.

“Let me have my moment! It’s a Baroness Edwards ball, Willam. This is a big fucking deal!!”

“Baroness Edwards. Girl, it’s Alyssa,” Willam laughed at Courtney’s formality.

Courtney looked up at her with one eyebrow raised, a look of disbelief on her face that Willam noticed made her look cuter than ever. “I’m just being polite. Have you met the woman? Has she said it’s okay to call her by her first name?”

“No, but you’ve seen her interviews. The woman is batshit mental,” Willam shrugged. Courtney mirrored her body language, clearly concluding that Willam was right. Alyssa was a little bit kooky and not by any means a stereotypical baroness; always joking and laughing in the House of Lords, acting as if every interviewer was her best friend, screeching and squawking and generally acting like a big joker. Many of her colleagues hated her, but she was so well-loved by the public that there was never really anything they could say. In Willam’s view, Alyssa Edwards was the best argument against abolishing the House of Lords that they had.

Turning her attention away from Courtney, hard as it was, Willam addressed the comms team who were still chattering like an excited flock of birds.

“What’s got you guys so hyped, anyway? It’s not like Alyssa extended her invite to you guys.”

“Shut up, you elitist cunt,” Katya laughed, throwing a pen at Willam from halfway across the room.

“If you must know,” Trixie leaned over in her chair and batted her lashes. “Us and the comms team from the opposition are having our own little ball this evening.”

“Trixie, stop calling it a ball,” Adore laughed loudly at her friend. Turning to address Willam, she explained. “We’re getting dressed up, eating at Wahacca, drinking until we can’t see and then going out.” 

“Wow, guys. Dream big,” Willam said blankly, earning her a packet of staples, this time from Violet.

“It’s a ball because we’re ballers,” Trixie said proudly, leaning back in her chair and receiving a disgusted glare from her girlfriend.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Katya said in her own deadpan way.

Jinkx piped up from behind her own monitor. “I have to say, I’m slightly jealous. Your evening is going to be far more fun than mine.”

“Jinkx, you’re getting to attend an Alyssa Edwards ball. Shut up,” Adore rolled her eyes at the senior press officer, Jinkx’s job title bagging her an invite too.

“Yeah, I’ll take your invite,” Violet offered playfully.

“Rather you than Jinkx, to be honest,” Willam quipped, laughing with Violet as Jinkx shot her a glare.

“I’d throw my post-its at you but I’d like the comms team to at least have some items of stationary left by the time Sharon arrives.”

“Shit!” Courtney looked at the clock and shot up from her chair. It was too late, however, as just then Sharon came round the corner and into the offices with her two red briefcases in her hands and Alaska just at her back.

“Courtney, I really would love to be met at the doors tomorrow. I mean, I am a cabinet minister, not a fucking bag lady,” Sharon chastised her, Courtney pulling a face as Alaska sat down at her desk.

“Why couldn’t you do it?” Courtney hissed at her friend as she sat down. Alaska sighed and shook her head.

“I was late. I had my own bags,” she said not-quite-apologetically as she logged in to her computer. Courtney rolled her eyes as she dragged her chair back over to her own desk and sat down on it.

“You’ve been late more than you’ve been early recently. Lask, I love you, but as your friend and your workmate, get your head out your ass,” she continued, typing forcefully into her own keyboard.

Willam momentarily thought to herself that it wasn’t her own ass Alaska needed to remove her head from.

“I mean, what must Sharon think?” Courtney tutted, her face now nervous. Just then, Sharon’s voice could be heard calling the girls through to the meeting room.

“Well we’re about to find out,” Alaska drawled lazily, swinging her chair round and leading the way towards the room at the top of the department, Willam, Courtney and Jinkx following behind her.

As soon as Willam entered the meeting room, she could see Sharon sitting at the head of the table, a massive excited smile on her face.

“Oh, Jesus, not you too,” Jinkx sighed as she sat down. Sharon raised an eyebrow at her, her expression completely changing.

“What me too?”

“Everyone’s pissing their pants for this charity ball but nobody’s actually seeing it for what it is, which is a massive money-making scheme for Alyssa Edwards’ businesses,” Jinkx sighed, crossing her legs lazily. Alaska snorted.

“They’re not businesses, Jinkx, they’re charities! They help kids.”

“Well, all I’m saying is that if Sharon ends up drunk and paying ten thousand pounds for a Birken bag at the auction, don’t come crying to me.”

“There’s a charity auction?! Ooh!” Sharon gasped excitedly, her pitch rising about an octave. Rolling her eyes, Jinkx pointed her pen in Sharon’s direction.

“Case and point.”

“There’s also poker and roulette tables!” Courtney chimed in, her excitement now reaching boiling point. Jinkx and Willam shared an exasperated look.

“Anyway,” Willam cut in before any more of the meeting was spent on anything else off-topic. “Why are we here, exactly?”

“Right, well,” Sharon started, at once business-like again. “Bianca’s heading here in ten minutes for a meeting, and I’m assuming it’s to brief me about tonight. So I want to be one step ahead. Ladies, give me the info.”

“So the main thing is that even though this night may be guising as recreational, it’s not. It’s all business,” Jinkx began, as the other girls nodded.

“We’ll introduce you to some big names and try to get them onside. Kimora Blac is very up-and-coming, it would be good to get in with her,” Courtney mused, leaning on the table with her elbows.

“Isn’t she just a Buzzfeed journalist? Do we really need Sharon’s coverage to be a listicle entitled ‘TWENTY REASONS WHY SHARON NEEDLES IS #MOM #BAE #QUEEN’?” Willam cut in with a sneer. Courtney frowned at her.

“Hey, she might work for Buzzfeed but she seems very astute. Her articles are really interesting, and she’d be good with The Independent if she ever decided to apply there. Her tweets always blow up too, she might come across as an airhead but she’s actually very sharp. We’ll get you talking,” Courtney insisted to Sharon, Willam shrugging and trusting her faith in the young journalist. 

“Anyone else?” Sharon asked hopefully.

“We’ll get you talking to Michaels again, she seemed keen last time and it’s good to keep up appearances,” Alaska suggested, earning her a nod from both Courtney and Jinkx. “We’ll try and introduce you to Raja Gemini too before she inevitably interviews you. She has a tendency to go ham on ministers she doesn’t see eye to eye with, so it’d be good to make a first impression in a more chilled environment.”

“Christ, no pressure,” Sharon exhaled loudly.

“It is a charity ball. That being said, don’t spend mad amounts of money,” Jinkx advised. “Just stay away from any opportunity to spend. The fundraisers are for the rich kids and for the parties who can afford to be seen spending money. We’re the working people’s party, not the spending people’s party.”

“It’s for charity, for fuck’s sake. Would the media really object to me spending if it was in aid of poor little kids with cholera?” Sharon sighed, kicking her feet up onto the table in front of her.

“Trust me, Sharon, it’s maybe not the best idea,” Courtney reasoned.

“Oh, and don’t be seen with a drink in your hand. You take one glass of free champagne and that’s it,” Willam said, her mind suddenly filled with nightmarish images of Sharon vomiting on the red carpet for the world’s media to see. Sharon’s face instantly grew disappointed. Alaska and the other girls laughed.

“Come on, Willam. Everyone will be drinking!” she chuckled, leaning back in her chair. Willam gave her a side glare.

“Well, do what you like. I’m not sold on it, but we can’t control you,” she shrugged, throwing her hands up in defeat.

“So champagne all round then,” Sharon cheered, Courtney clapping excitably in response. No more could be said, however, as a harsh voice rang out through the department and the unmistakable sound of stilettos on a carpeted floor came closer and closer to the meeting room. 

“No, I don’t care that he’s saying no. Well just get it done, right? Or I’ll turn you into a human fucking plug socket. And I can do that, by the way, I took all three sciences to A level,” Bianca hurtled into her phone as she arrived before swiping swiftly across the screen, the conversation clearly over. Pocketing her phone, she then turned to address the room. “Okay, good morning ladies. I hope you’ve all had a good night’s rest because the information I am about to impart to you is probably the most important thing you will hear all day, and I need you to retain it.”

Sharon leaned back in her chair lazily. “Bianca, it’s fine. These guys have briefed me already. The ball will be fine. It’ll be just like playing Sims. Mash the Schmooze button with every fucker I see.”

Bianca’s face was immediately painted with a sneer. “This…this is not about Alyssa Edwards’ fucking ball! I don’t care what you do at that, as long as you’re not seen sniffing ket off of the foreign secretary’s balls.”

“Well there’s no danger of that.” Jinkx piped up, bristling a little.

“What is this about, then?” Willam asked, suddenly intrigued. Bianca’s face did look very foreboding, as if she was about to impart knowledge that would make the fabric of reality split in two. Bianca took a quick look out of the glass-fronted office to see if anyone was hovering nearby. They weren’t. Seemingly satisfied, she leaned on the table and lowered her voice.

“The Prime Minister has finally decided to do something about the refugee crisis.”

Sharon’s face lit up. “Oh, thank God! This is amazing, we’re fina-”

“Hold your horses,” Bianca shut Sharon down, lifting one hand up to pause her. “It’s not what you’d expect. He’s…well, within the next few years…wants to take immigration out of government hands.”

There was a silence in the room. Willam was completely confused. Courtney was the first to speak.

“What so like…military control?”

“Privatisation.”

The mood in the room shifted considerably. Willam and Sharon shared a glance. From what Willam could gather, Sharon seemed tense.

“This…” she began, then stopped. Her brow was furrowed, and she appeared to be deep in thought. “I don’t understand how this is going to work.”

Bianca leaned against the glass door. She seemed not 100% at ease with it all either, as if she was the bearer of bad news. “Well, it’s standard privatisation. The government offer a contract for border control. Companies make offers. Lowest offer wins. They control the borders and immigration is out of government hands.”

“This surely isn’t-”

“Yes, Alaska. This is the PM’s legacy. He’s-”

There was suddenly a knock on the half-open glass door. As Willam craned her neck she saw Adore hovering nervously. The room fell silent and she seemed to take that as a cue to take one tentative step inside.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said quietly. Then, as her eyes rested on Jinkx, she seemed to relax a little. “Jinkx, we’re getting some calls about Alyssa’s ball tonight? There’s rumours that security are going to be keeping Sharon and Phi Phi away from each other?”

Jinkx gave a biblical roll of her eyes. “Who is it that’s phoning?”

Adore pulled a face. “The Sun, The Star. The Daily Mail potentially?”

“Tell them to stick a goose up their arse,” Jinkx snapped back. With a hasty nod of her head, Adore retreated. All focus was back to Bianca, whose face had suddenly taken on a suspicious glare.

“How long had she been there?”

“Oh, Bianca, for fuck’s sake. She’s just a civil service puppet, don’t worry about her. Who you should be worried about is me,” Sharon’s tone was suddenly dark as she looked Bianca dead in the eye. Willam was a little shocked, and judging by the panicked look she shared with Courtney, she wasn’t the only one. “Because I will be fighting this tooth and nail in parliament. This is not happening.”

“It’s sweet how you think this is up for debate. It isn’t. I came here to inform you of this because it will hit the press after New Year, and I want you aware of the line which is obviously that this is the greatest fucking idea since sliced bread. Except it’s better than that, because as good things go sliced bread is a bit fucking shit. Just say it’s the best thing since cocaine and strippers,” Bianca ended flippantly. Sharon narrowed her eyes.

“Bianca,” she began coldly, her voice shaking a little with anger. “I need you to understand that I am going to do everything in my power to ensure that this doesn’t go ahead.”

Bianca lowered her voice and drew her brows together, her face snarling in a scowl. “And I need you to understand that it is your job to ensure that it does go ahead. This is not up for debate, Sharon. ”

Seething, Sharon threw herself back in her chair, her head ricocheting off its headrest as if she was a crash test dummy. She folded her arms across her chest and her face looked deep in thought. Bianca ran a frustrated hand through her caramel curls and exhaled noisily, glad the conversation was over.

“Well. That’ll be that then. I’ll see you lot this evening, you’ll be able to find me at the bar drowning myself in amaretto and trying to pretend I’m interested in what Lord Huxby drones on at me.”

With a few muted goodbyes, Bianca was off again back through the department. As soon as she was out of earshot, Sharon instantly flew out of her seat.

“What the fuck is the PM playing at?!” she yelled, pacing around the small space of office that wasn’t taken up by the huge table. “Privatisation? That’s meant to be Phi Phi’s fucking mantra, I mean what is this party turning into?!”

Nobody else in the room really knew what to say, least of all Willam. It did seem a strange move from the Prime Minister, and one that the public would surely pick up on. Sharon was still pacing, her entire aura one of rage.

“Minister, would you like me to prepare a statement to put out when the announcement of the legacy goes through?” Jinkx asked hesitantly, looking with anxiety at Alaska as she did so. Sharon stopped pacing, waving a hand at Jinkx dismissively.

“No, no thank you, Jinkx. I just need time to think, if everyone could maybe just give me some time on my own,” Sharon sighed, rubbing the back of her neck in agitation. “This is not happening. There is no way I’m letting the lives of immigrants get put in the hands of some company that’s just going to cut corners wherever it can. I just need to think of a way to oppose it without making too many waves.”

Willam let out an incredulous snort which turned all the heads in the room her way. She was a little taken aback, then explained. “Sorry, Sharon, I just don’t know how you’re going to fight the Prime Minister’s legacy without making too many waves.”

Sharon paused, then shrugged and gave a little half-smile. “Well maybe I’ll just have to capsize some motherfuckers.”

Giving her an amused smile, Willam got up and dutifully made to leave, Courtney and Jinkx following behind her. Willam didn’t miss the way Alaska hovered at the door as if to make sure Sharon didn’t want any company, but a reassuring glance from her girlfriend resulted in her leaving the room and shutting the glass door behind her. As they walked back to their desks, Courtney huffed a huge sigh.

“That was a lot,” she said, raising her eyebrows a little.

“Yeah. I’m concerned. I hope Sharon’s not going to do anything rash,” Alaska frowned, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Willam gave her a sideways glance.

“Come on, girl. She’ll be fine, she knows what she’s doing.”

Alaska’s shoulders slumped a little. “I just wish I could talk to her.”

Willam tensed a little, wondering if Courtney would pick up on the implications of Alaska’s statement. She didn’t seem to.

“Well, let’s just hope she’s out of her huff before Alyssa’s tonight. I don’t suspect the Baroness will take kindly to Sharon if she’s in a massive mood. Ooh, speaking of Alyssa’s!” Courtney beamed suddenly, an idea only just seeming to come to her. “Why don’t you guys come round to mine before we head to the Dorchester? Then Sharon’s car won’t have to go to every flat before arriving. We can get some cava or prosecco and have a chill. It’ll be cute!”

Willam felt like she’d been shocked by a defibrillator. Why was she suddenly nervous? It was just spending time with friends, she’d done it before, but never in Courtney’s flat. The suggestion of this new setting panicked Willam a little, made everything feel a little more intimate. It shouldn’t have scared her so much.

Swallowing her nerves, Willam forced a smile on her face which she hoped made her look carefree and not constipated. “Sounds good, yeah. I’m down.”

“Same! It’ll be fun,” Alaska beamed, managing to sound ten times more relaxed than Willam felt. Excitement painted on her face, Courtney turned to the comms team.

“Jinkx? Come to mine before Sharon picks us up? We’ll have bubbles!”

Jinkx leaned back in her chair and gave the three an amused smile. “It’s a lovely offer, Courtney, but I think I’ll just get ready with a cup of tea and Nina Simone and Sharon can pick me up before yours. I’m staying off the bubbles this evening, just in case I’m needed.”

“Yeah, who knows. There might be a political emergency where they need someone with an extensive knowledge of televised Poirot murder mysteries,” Willam smirked, leaning back on her desk. Jinkx simply gave her a roll of her eyes. Secretly, though, Willam was glad they’d have two guaranteed sober members of Dosac there this evening. She should probably make it three. Willam was suddenly jolted out of her thoughts as Courtney grabbed both her and Alaska in an animated hug.

“This is going to be such a good night!” she squealed, squeezing them both tightly before legging go. As she returned to her desk, Willam walked back to her own in a slight daze. It didn’t make any sense for her to be nervous. Taking a deep breath, she tried to convince herself that there was nothing to get worked up about; tonight would just be a nice night with friends, and there was no real scope for anything to go wrong.

Casting an eye back up to the meeting room and seeing Sharon still deep in thought only made her worry increase tenfold.

***

Willam stood in front of the full-length mirror that had been crammed into one corner of her studio flat. Sighing and sucking her stomach in, she scrutinised herself ruthlessly. Her hair was good, that was a given. She’d managed to tame it and barrel-curl it into huge waves, then pin it over one shoulder in a sort of Jessica Rabbit style. It wasn’t really her. But it still looked good.

Her makeup was adequate at least. Anything that had gone wrong had been concealed over; one corner of her eye where her eyeliner had decided to backstab her now sported about 15 layers of the damn thing. She cursed herself for how basic she’d gone as she stared down her burnt gold smoky eye and red lip. Casting an eye down the rest of her body, that was where the real insecurity began. She’d fallen in love with her dress when she bought it, but with every passing second the doubt in her mind grew. The bodycon mid-length, long-sleeved cream dress with little dimantes all over it now seemed a horrific choice, like some tacky girl’s prom dress and not a smart ballgown meant for an incredibly opulent evening. Willam grabbed her invite from her adjacent dressing table and read it over again. Was this dress black tie? What even was black tie?! She didn’t wear a fucking tie!

Sighing, she acknowledged there wasn’t much she could do to change it now. Still, the apprehension and panic was eating her up inside. She knew this was still basically work; a massive ass-kissing event to try and get Sharon networked, but Willam also knew this meant she would get to spend an extensive length of time around both Courtney and alcohol and she tried to avoid those situations as much as possible for fear of her stupid mouth opening and saying something she shouldn’t. Thinking back to her uni days, she gave a little shudder at the sheer extent of things she could blame on just that. For a moment, she felt her throat go completely dry as she thought about what Courtney might wear.

She’d not been this nervous in a long time, in fact probably not since she started the job at Dosac all those years ago. She absolutely hated the feeling of not being able to control her palpitating heart, or her shallow breathing, or her pulse that was now thudding underneath her skin at the speed of a freight train. Anger was fine; she could generally channel that into something productive, and Willam never allowed herself to get sad (or at least that’s what she’d tell everyone), but nerves were different. No amount of logical, motivational internal speeches to herself would help. Sighing an incredibly shaky sigh, Willam peered at her phone and checked the time. She’d left enough minutes to allow for traffic so that she would get to Courtney’s bang on time, but now she was overthinking that too. If she was too early, that would seem weirdly keen. If she was late, she would seem rude. If she was on time it would seem like she’d overthought the situation, which she definitely wasn’t doing at all. With a sort of gulp of an intake of breath, Willam began dialling a taxi company to book, managing to speak to the operator despite the fact she felt her vocal cords would crack with how dry her throat was. After she’d confirmed the taxi, she did a double-check of her clutch bag to make sure she had her survival kit for the night. Phone, cards, a few twenties and tens. Keys, caffeine tablets. A miniscule sample bottle of perfume and her lipstick, as well as tissues just in case. She cursed whoever invented clutch bags for making it acceptable to carry a fucking tiny rectangle around under your arm of an evening. Suddenly remembering her invite, Willam folded it in half and stuck it inside her clutch, which was slowly beginning to resemble Mary Poppins’ carpet bag.

As her phone began to ring signalling the arrival of her taxi outside, Willam hurriedly slipped on a pair of nude heels- which she’d later realise didn’t go with her dress- and took one last look around her room of a flat before leaving. It was a total mess of clothes, makeup and hair products, but future Willam could deal with it. Opening the door and then clicking it closed, she carefully made her way down her stairwell and into the black cab that was waiting for her.

Now that she was on the road and on the way to Courtney’s Brixton flat, Willam felt herself calming down just a little. At least she was now on the move, and it wasn’t as if it would simply be the both of them alone together; Alaska would be there too and Willam supposed it was quite impossible to be nervous around the most relaxed human alive. Willam shot a quick text off to Courtney just to let her know she was on the way, and then decided to let herself relax just a little. She couldn’t at all, but at least the effort had been made to try.

Soon enough the taxi pulled up outside Courtney’s unthreatening-looking apartment building. Willam crammed one of her notes through the little pane of Perspex glass that separated driver and passenger and stepped outside, clip-clopping up to the front door and pushing the buzzer for Courtney’s flat. She was met around five seconds later with a loud buzz as the front door was opened, allowing Willam to walk up one flight of stairs. She felt as if she was walking into either heaven or hell; the giddy excitement and the underlying feeling of dread she felt simultaneously made it hard to tell which. Reaching Courtney’s door, she almost felt like the breath was being knocked out of her lungs as it opened, only to find Alaska on the other side of it smiling widely and holding a champagne flute full of orange juice.

“Hiiieee, girl!” she squealed as she wrapped Willam in a welcoming hug, her signature greeting providing Willam with a sense of comfort in the chaos that was currently her mind. “Come in, Court’s not ready yet. Shock.”

Stumbling slightly as Alaska showed her to the living room, Willam quickly scanned her surroundings. Courtney’s flat seemed small but modern, although it had definitely had a couple of previous owners judging by general wear and tear- a scuff on a skirting board here, a chip out of the plaster in one wall there. Then again, Willam would be loath to judge her based on the state she left her own flat in. Alaska ushered Willam through to a bright, airy-looking living room, with two medium-sized leather sofas providing bookends for a coffee table with a few bottles of nail polish, some empty champagne flutes, an open bottle of prosecco, and a few crumpled pieces of cotton wool sitting on top of it. There was a wall-mounted TV sitting at one end of the sofas, and at the other end of the room there was a simple dining setup with a table and six mismatched chairs.

“You look beautiful, girl,” Alaska smiled at Willam, picking up an empty flute and filling it with prosecco.

“Thanks, so do you,” Willam simultaneously accepted and returned the compliment, still getting used to her new surroundings as she accepted the glass that Alaska shoved into her hand without even thinking. She hadn’t planned on drinking anything tonight, but she was beginning to feel as if she’d need just one glass. Realising how flippantly she’d given the compliment back, she examined Alaska’s outfit more closely. She’d gone for a floor-length dress, a simple strapless royal blue number with a fishtail lower half. Her hair was pinned up, but not in its usual bird’s nest; instead it was arranged in an elaborate set of plaits and twists that made for an intricate bun. Her make-up had clearly been well thought-out, and was immaculate as a result.

“So how much of tonight is really going to be about work?” Alaska asked dryly, raising one perfect eyebrow. Willam let out a laugh.

“A solid 100%,” she instantly replied, pausing as she took a sip from her glass. The prosecco was good. “All it’s going to be is us introducing Sharon to various wankers from the media and hoping she goes down well.”

“Well there’s no question around that, of course she will,” Alaska shrugged, leaning back on the couch. Willam felt her top lip curl in disagreement.

“Alaska you’re biased as fuck,” she said simply, Alaska rolling her eyes as she was met with words she clearly didn’t want to hear.

“Yeah, but come on Will. Even you have to admit she’s likeable, and I know you don’t even like many people.”

Willam simply shrugged and took a sip of her prosecco. It was working wonders to loosen her up, although she was still acutely aware of the fact that Courtney hadn’t emerged from her room yet. Alaska seemed to think the same thing in the silence.

“COURT! Hurry the fuck up, Willam’s about to drink all your alcohol,” she yelled through the walls, Courtney giving a muffled reply that Willam couldn’t really make out. Alaska shook her head and laughed long-sufferingly, then seemed to pick up on Willam’s anxiety.

“She looks beautiful, by the way,” Alaska mentioned nonchalantly, avoiding Willam’s death glare by staring into her glass of orange juice.

“Don’t you dare,” Willam pointed one fake-nailed talon towards her friend as a simple warning.

“I’m not doing anything! I’m just saying,” Alaska smiled smugly, tipping a little more of her orange juice into her mouth. Swallowing, she continued. “Do you think you’ll say anything to her tonight?”

“No, and I won’t be saying anything to her for a considerable amount of time. This conversation is ending now,” Willam barked a reply, Alaska’s questioning only putting her further on edge. She didn’t mean to upset her friend and snap, but she was already so anxious and nervous that talking about the situation would surely make it worse. Alaska seemed to take Willam’s nerves on the chin though, simply raising her eyebrows in amusement. Relaxing her face, she then took out her phone, glancing at it for a few seconds. Willam watched as her face grew disappointed.

“You alright, girl?” she asked, concerned about her friend who now seemed to be attempting to conceal her feelings.

“Oh, yeah. Sure! I just…Sharon. Just sent me a photo. And she looks so amazing, and I’m so proud to call her my girlfriend, you know?” Alaska sighed, Willam feeling the weight of her heavy heart hanging in the atmosphere.

“Well that’s good, right? Nothing about what you said is something to be sad about, unless I’ve taken a bump to the fucking skull and woken up in a world where happy is now sad, and sad is now happy, and Lorraine Kelly is the president of Iran, and cous-cous has been privatised,” Willam joked, trying to lighten the mood. It earned her one very weak smile from Alaska. 

“No, I’m happy! Of course I’m happy. It’s just…well, I wish I could show her off to everyone tonight and be public and proud of her and disgustingly PDA,” she shrugged, her shoulders radiating disappointment. Willam was confused.

“Girl, not that it’s any of my business but when are you gonna go public? You and Sharon can’t stay under wraps forever, she’s a politician. The media are on her like a hawk 24/7.”

Alaska rolled her eyes. “I know that, Will, of course I know that. It’s not without want of trying. I mean, our whole first date we couldn’t do anything like what couples would normally do in case there were paps somehow nearby. She was so paranoid. She still is.”

Remembering her political stance, Willam pulled a face. “To be fair, I guess she’s trying to keep the professional balance. You have to remember she’s still your boss, girl.”

Sighing, Alaska nodded and picked at a piece of her nail polish that had already developed a chip. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. And I mean I’ll always support Sharon’s career, she’s good at what she does, and that’s not me being biased. I knew what I was getting myself into when I fell for her, I’ve only got myself to blame. I just…sometimes wish we were a normal couple, you know?”

Willam gave a nod of support, and the two sat in companionable silence for a while. Willam was worried for Alaska. She was such a sweet friend, and Willam had never seen her with someone before. She was so conflicted, the professional and personal sides of her brain sitting like a small devil and a small angel on her shoulders. On the one hand, it would be hell for the party if it got out that Sharon was seeing one of her advisors, but on the other all Willam really wanted was for Alaska to be happy, which was clearly what she was. Willam couldn’t help but wonder, though, how long such a relationship could go on for. From her calculations Sharon and Alaska had been together for a month now, a month of sneaking around together and doing everything secretively and privately. It was a little what Willam imagined cheating to feel like, except she couldn’t quite work out who the two women were actually cheating on. It had only been just over two weeks when Willam had found out about them and even that was completely by accident. If the media even got a whiff of an inter-party relationship and made the effort to investigate it, who knew how long it would take before they could raise hell with the information. It made Willam shudder a little.

“You are being careful though, right girl? You and Sharon,” she said quietly, breaking the silence. Alaska snorted playfully.

“Yeah. She uses condoms and I’m on the pill and neither one of us is pregnant.”

Willam couldn’t help but splutter a laugh mid-way through a sip of prosecco. “Bitch, shut up! You know what I mean. I’m only looking out for you. I don’t want the media treating you guys as their chew toy.”

Clearly not in the mood to be serious, Alaska rested her head in her hands and looked affectionately at Willam. “Aww, is Willam Belli actually being…nice? Showing concern? This is impossible. Next minute she’ll be surrounded by bluebirds and shedding tears.”

“You know I had my tear ducts cauterised shut at the age of 12,” Willam joked back, leaning back in her chair and finally relaxing, trusting Alaska’s judgement. She felt her heart give a little judder, however, as she heard a pair of heels approaching from the corridor behind her and saw Alaska’s eyes dart to just behind Willam’s shoulder.

“Well this was a weird point to enter the conversation,” Courtney’s voice suddenly filled the living room, and Willam had to steel herself before she turned round and saw her.

Courtney looked so stunning that Willam momentarily lost her breath. She was wearing black, a colour that she never really wore regularly but which suited her immensely. Her dress was floor-length with a little black lace train at its back, and the bodice was slightly corseted which served to pull her in at the waist. There were little patterned black flowers adding texture here and there, and her shoes could barely be seen under the sheer length of the gown. Her makeup was dark and smoky, a style which Willam was sure Courtney had never worn before but she looked beautiful for it. Her hair cascaded in curls that framed either sides of her face. Willam very suddenly became acutely aware of two things: one, that she now felt like a tramp compared to her two friends and two, that she was now more nervous than she’d ever been in her life.

Courtney seemed to pick up on Willam’s awed stare, as her expression became a little apprehensive. “Fuck. It’s too much, isn’t it? I knew I’d be overdressed, I fucking told Trixie I’d be overdressed, but she made me buy it and ugh, I need to go and change because everyone’s going to be staring at me and-”

“Court,” Willam found herself yelling slightly at her worried friend, if she could even call what she felt for Courtney friendship any more. Courtney stopped talking abruptly, looking at Willam with a little shock in her eyes. Willam tried to summon moisture from somewhere to save her mouth, which now was so dry that it could’ve rivalled Ghandi’s flip flop. “Don’t change. You look really good.”

Willam felt like kicking herself for how feeble the compliment seemed. She’d wanted to say beautiful, or stunning, or incredible, but everything seemed too strong and Courtney would have suspected something. She needn’t have worried, though, as Courtney’s face instantly lit up, pleased that she had the approval of her friend.

“You look amazing, girl,” Alaska chimed in, handing Courtney a glass of prosecco that Willam was unsure when she’d poured. “Come sit, Sharon’s car isn’t meant to pick us up for another half hour at least.”

Obliging, Courtney opted to sit beside Willam on the couch facing Alaska. Willam noticed that Courtney must have been wearing new perfume, one that smelt of vanilla and jasmine and made Willam’s heart hurt at how much she wanted to just blurt out something she shouldn’t.

Draining her glass and reaching for the prosecco bottle, Willam looked up at the wall-mounted clock. Half an hour until they were picked up by Sharon. She could get through this.

***

Willam was happy. Really quite pleasantly happy in fact, as if there was a warm blanket that had been draped over her after her third glass of prosecco. She should probably stop drinking soon. She’d have to have some champagne when she got to the ball, otherwise it would look odd. But when Courtney had unearthed two more bottles of fizz from her fridge, it became increasingly hard to say no.

She was a lot less nervous as well, although she wasn’t sure how much of that was thanks to the prosecco. Willam wasn’t sure why she’d been nervous about coming round to Courtney’s flat. Courtney was so lovely and relaxed, and definitely generous with the top-ups. Every so often Alaska would make a joke, or do an impression of Bianca or Jinkx, and Courtney would laugh so hard she would flail her arms and her hands would come to rest on Willam’s arm, or her thigh, or her hand. She supposed any other time it would have made her even more nervous, but now she simply reciprocated, mirroring Courtney’s hands and making them look a little like Siamese twins. Every time Courtney shot a smile Willam’s way, she felt her heart melt a little bit more, but the feeling wasn’t like how she felt every day at work. The prosecco gave her a little buzz and made her a little more hopeful that Courtney reciprocated her feelings, and only reinforced the sense that this night had something magical about it. Every so often Willam felt that the energy between her and Courtney was electric, especially when Alaska left the room to pee at one point and left the two girls alone together. They were both so giggly and touchy and flirty, although Willam wasn’t sure how much of that was in her own head, and she’d often been very close to closing the ever-decreasing gap between them and kissing Courtney like she’d wanted to all this time.

It was a good thing, then, that Sharon’s car arrived when it did. Around ten minutes late, Courtney heard the sound of the car horn from her window long before she heard her flat intercom buzzer, and started hurrying Willam and Alaska out, Willam sort of blindly grabbing her clutch bag and her coat and hoping she had everything she needed.

She had Courtney, though, and she supposed she’d be alright with just her.

Rushing out of Courtney’s stairwell and clip-clopping into the taxi, Willam was met by Sharon and Jinkx already inside. She couldn’t really see what either of them were wearing, but from what she could see they both looked good; Jinkx scrubbing up well in an off-shoulder black and white striped dress and Sharon in what seemed to be a black sequin dress which complimented her figure. As she raised her arm up to wave, Willam could see it was long-sleeved. Sitting in the far right hand seat, Willam watched as Alaska’s eyes widened when she saw her girlfriend, Sharon smiling shyly at her as Alaska clambered into the car.

“You look…amazing,” Alaska said, her voice full of awe as she took her seat beside Willam. Sharon looked to the ground momentarily, clearly flattered by her girlfriend’s reaction.

“So do you. Absolutely beautiful,” she replied. Willam could see that the both of them were desperate to hold each other’s hands or do something that any other couple would do upon seeing the person they loved looking their absolute best. It was the sort of thing Willam had been contemplating earlier and now she was seeing it played out in front of her, a sad sort of tragedy to the whole scene. Sharon seemed to snap out of whatever spell she had been under and instead turned to compliment Courtney who was climbing into the back seat. Willam didn’t miss the way Alaska looked to the floor, her eyes a little disappointed. Nudging her, Willam gave her a sympathetic smile. Alaska smiled back gratefully.

“Jinkx! You look incredible!” Courtney exclaimed, each syllable more drawn-out than the last as she reached over and planted both her hands on Jinkx’s knees. Raising one eyebrow, the senior press officer gave Courtney a suspicious look.

“You look drunk,” she replied dryly. With that, the other three girls in the car burst out laughing, the amount of prosecco Willam had drunk making everything seem that little bit funnier. Jinkx didn’t seem impressed. “Ladies, please! Pull yourselves together, what is Baroness Edwards going to think?”

“She’s going to think we’re total legends,” Sharon smiled smugly, Willam only just noticing the slight smell of white wine from her indicating she’d done a bit of pre-drinking of her own. A sudden sense of dread began to form in the pit of Willam’s stomach, making her feel as if perhaps she shouldn’t have drunk all that prosecco after all. On the plus side, Sharon seemed a lot more relaxed and carefree that she’d been earlier at work, so if anything at least she would be a happy drunk.

“Sharon, ask your driver if we can put some Cascada on!” Courtney practically yelled. As Sharon turned to face the driver’s seat, Alaska put a hand out to stop her.

“We’re not turning up to the red carpet with Cascada blaring out the car,” she admonished her, Willam glad that Alaska was another representative for sobriety. As Sharon and Courtney both pouted, Willam found herself wondering how long the car journey had to go. Roughly twenty more minutes of Courtney and Sharon begging for some “sick bangers”, Alaska and Willam almost wetting themselves with laughter, and Jinkx attempting to be the voice of reason was followed by the car coming to a complete stop with the driver getting out of the front seat and opening the side door, exposing the five of them to one long strip of red, the Dorchester’s glamorous entranceway, and a border of bright flashing bulbs. Willam felt her throat close up slightly. The nerves were back in full force as she realised the sheer scale of what they were about to enter into. Sharon got out of the car confidently, followed by Alaska and then Jinkx. Only Willam and Courtney remained in the car. Glancing at Courtney, she looked as nervous as Willam felt.

“Hey,” Willam caught her attention, Courtney’s doe eyes wide in fear. “We’ll be fine. This evening will be fine.”

She couldn’t help that she instantly wanted to reassure and protect Courtney. It seemed to kick in in situations like these, almost instinctive. As Courtney smiled at her, Willam felt her heart almost explode as Courtney suddenly reached for Willam’s hand and took it in her own.

“You know, Will, I never told you how amazing you look tonight,” Courtney said, her words slurring only a little bit. As she gave Willam’s hand one final squeeze, let it go and began to leave the car, Willam felt as if her palms had never been sweatier. In her alcohol-soaked mind, she had no idea whether or not Courtney’s compliment was sincere or just as a result of all the alcohol she’d drank herself. With her heart beating so fast she felt she would faint, Willam clambered out of the car in a daze.

Walking a red carpet was something Willam had never done before and something she never really wanted to do again. It was a weird experience, with too many bright lights and people shouting and fake smiles and awkward poses. Sharon, however, seemed in her element, stopping every so often to have her photo taken and each time making Willam pray she was sober enough to decide against pulling out a peace sign or a dab or something akin to the two. By a miracle, the five managed to make it inside the Dorchester without any PR disasters.

Immediately, the elegance of the entire place was apparent. The marble floor glistened as if it was glass, and identical marble pillars stood at either side of the doorway welcoming them. The wallpaper was cream and completely pristine without a single scuff or scratch on it. Willam scarcely had time to take in the rest of her surroundings as a large doorman prompted them for their invitations. Willam dug inside her clutch bag and handed it over, a little embarrassed by how crumpled it had become. Having established that none of them seemed to be gatecrashers, the doorman gave them a friendly smile and unlocked the small red velvet rope that separated the entrance from the grand ballroom. 

Here, Willam felt even more overwhelmed, and by the reactions of the others she wasn’t alone. The ballroom looked exactly like something from a Disney film; the marble continued from the hallway, leading down an ornate staircase and onto an ornately patterned floor where hundreds of glamorous media presences stood and chatted to one another. The walls were just as lavish, the champagne-coloured wallpaper interrupted every so often by a vase full of white lilies on a marble plinth, or a stone mantelpiece, or a section of wall covered entirely by mirrors. There was another room just jutting off to the left hand side, which Willam could see held a bar and the promised roulette tables. A small orchestra sat on the opposite side of the room, playing something classical that Willam couldn’t even begin to recognise. As she stood and drank in her surroundings, she turned to face the others. Alaska looked very similar to when she first saw Sharon. Jinkx was practically slack-jawed. The fear was very much back in Courtney’s eyes and Sharon was frozen still.

“Maybe there’s a mistake. Maybe we shouldn’t be here,” Sharon muttered, clearly overwhelmed by her surroundings. Alaska immediately protested.

“No! No mistake. You deserve to be here, Sharon, you’ve made a good impression and tonight is about that! Look at you,” she finished quietly, gesturing to Sharon’s dress. “You have every right to be here.”

Taking a deep breath, Sharon seemed to swallow her anxiety and nodded, taking Alaska’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze.

“So. What now?” Jinkx asked, shuffling a little on the spot. No sooner had she asked that question was Willam immediately alerted to a cry that appeared to come from the middle of the ballroom.

“There she is!” came the unmistakable voice of Baroness Edwards, who seemed to half-elbow her way through the crowd and up the stairs to where Sharon stood. Willam was a little taken aback- Alyssa was a huge presence, her smile so hugely bright and giving the impression that Sharon was an old friend and not just someone she’d never met before in her life. Her gown was equally as loud as she was; bright yellow and patterned with glittering jewels. Her light brown hair was swept up into an elaborate bun, making absolutely nothing about her outfit understated at all. She was intimidating, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Baroness, it’s such a pleasure,” Sharon replied humbly, Willam glad that her surroundings seemed to sober her up a little. “Thank you so much for inviting us here this evening. Everything looks beautiful!”

Alyssa howled in protestation, smacking Sharon on the arm and causing her to flinch. “Don’t you give me all that Baroness nonsense! It’s Alyssa to you, darling.”

Tuning out of Alyssa’s ramblings, Willam looked over to Courtney and gave her a smug smile, reminded of their earlier conversation. Courtney stuck her tongue out in retaliation, the two both giggling like children.

“I just had to have you here after the big splash you’ve made ever since you came on the scene, Miss Shamu! Oh no, that makes it sound like I’m calling you fat,” Alyssa reeled back in horror, then howled with laughter. “But you know what I mean, Miss Thing! You’ve been causing a commotion, like Madonna. There we are, see, Madonna’s a better comparison.”

Willam was nothing short of amazed that Sharon was managing to follow the conversation without being slightly horrified.

“Well, you and I both know how frantic politics can get, Miss Edwards,” she shrugged, keeping her tone formal. “And sometimes it’s necessary to rock the boat a little.”

“Yes, ma’am! Guys and Dolls style,” Alyssa vehemently agreed, nodding so hard that Willam thought her bun would come apart. “Well, keep up the good work, Miss Needles. The world needs more politicians like you, that’s for certain. Now, you enjoy this evening, won’t you? That’s one thing I want the most from everyone here. That and their money!”

With that, Alyssa gave another yelp of laughter, gripping Sharon’s arm for dear life as she got her breath back.

“It’ll be a lovely night, Miss Edwards, and thank you once again for the invite,” Sharon smiled at her. With an affectionate smile back and a quick hug, Alyssa was gone, now shouting down the corridor as she spied another new arrival. As she watched the Baroness retreating, Sharon turned to the others and gave them all a look of sheer disbelief.

“I feel like I just met the human incarnation of caffeine,” she said blankly, still slightly dazed. Just then, a smartly-dressed waiter with a silver drinks tray approached the group. Sharon gratefully took a tall glass of champagne, Courtney following after. Willam decided to decline.

“You did very well, Sharon. I think you made a very good first impression,” Jinkx praised her, Courtney and Alaska nodding proudly. 

“Just do that with everyone you meet tonight and we might have world domination on our hands,” Willam smiled, admittedly proud of the minister. Sharon had done well. Maybe she didn’t need to be so worried. Suddenly, Willam became aware of a presence behind her.

“Oh, well, let’s not get carried away,” a voice laughed rather affectedly. Whipping around, Willam was faced with Phi Phi O’Hara and the Satanic Tweedledee and Tweedledum themselves, Roxxxy and Detox. Their dresses were all equally brash, a mismatched colour chart of hot pink, cream and some pattern made up of lime green and blue. A suited man hung on Detox’s arm, which Willam had an infinite number of questions about. None of them could be answered, however, as Sharon was already giving Phi Phi a faux-pleasant smile.

“Phi Phi, what a tremendous, massive, overwhelming pleasure this is,” she smiled sarcastically, punctuating the end of her sentence with a sip of champagne. Phi Phi simply laughed a little in response.

“I trust you’re enjoying the evening so far? It must be really intimidating, you know, coming and seeing the elite of society all mingling together in one of the most elegant settings available. I’d feel quite out of my depth if I were you,” Phi Phi shrugged, Roxxxy smirking behind her. “The ballroom is quite overwhelming for anyone who hasn’t visited before. I’m not so unfortunate, I mean I actually had my 21st birthday party here. And my 16th.”

“Was this before or after your Dad kicked a homeless man in the face?” Willam found herself saying, shocking herself slightly but only blinded by the anger she felt coursing through her veins. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Willam heard a splutter of laughter from behind her, but she couldn’t tell who it had come from. Phi Phi looked as if she’d been slapped. Detox spoke up from behind her.

“You know there’s a lot of journalists here this evening, Willam. You should watch what you say.”

“Oh, hey Detox. Nice date, where’d you get him? The fuckin’ pound store?” Willam continued, the words tumbling from her mouth like vomit. Someone behind her was now fully cracking up, and from the laugh she recognised it as Alaska. All four guests in front of Willam were now looking suitably shut down, looking as if they wished to be anywhere than in front of their opposition. Phi Phi gave a little sniff of derision.

“Yes. Well. Enjoy your evening. I hope you don’t make any horrific social faux pas, Sharon. Would be a shame to see your face on the front pages tomorrow, especially when I’m announcing my new policy.”

“Turn your policy on its ass and spin on it,” Willam snapped, heartily sick of the sight of the people in front of her. With a raise of her eyebrows, Phi Phi led her small clique away down the stairs. Still full of rage, Willam breathed a huge sigh and turned around to face her friends. Courtney, Alaska and Sharon were beaming at her. Jinkx looked vaguely ill.

“Willam, don’t ever-”

“Oh, Jinkx, shut up! That was fucking amazing. I want that on tape,” Alaska cried excitedly, happy that the opposition had been put in their place.

“Did she say she was announcing tomorrow? Why haven’t I heard about this?” Jinkx questioned, her tone full of concern. Courtney gave her a smile of reassurance.

“Don’t worry, Jinkx. She was probably just bluffing, the big sack of wind that she is.”

“She’s a big sack of a lot of things,” Willam practically hissed, still absolutely livid. She calmed a little as Courtney stroked her arm in an attempt to calm her down.

“Shh. You’ve shut her up now, Miss Hero of the Night,” Courtney giggled, her voice having the same effect on Willam’s rage as water on fire. “Should we go find Bianca? I kind of want to see what she looks like in a ballgown. Morbid fascination, you know?”

As Willam nodded and made to move away, she was interrupted by a smart waitress with another drinks tray full of long flutes of champagne. Shrugging, Willam reached out and took one from the shining silver platter, thanking the girl as she left. Taking a sip, the cold, slightly metallic taste soothed her anger a little more.

What harm would another drink do, after all?

***

They had only been at the Dorchester for two hours, and the night was already an absolute shambles.

As Willam stood at the bar with Jinkx and swayed slightly in her heels, she replayed the evening’s events in her head. Everything had started off well enough- they had found Bianca and she had greeted them all heartily, Sharon’s transgression from earlier in the day seemingly forgotten. They’d stood and chatted for a while, every so often a new waiter or waitress offering them champagne and Willam, Sharon and Courtney gladly accepting. Bianca even introduced Sharon to an ITV intern who had seemingly managed to blag herself an invite through sheer charm alone; Valerie or Valancia or Val-something.

“She might not seem much now,” Bianca had muttered after she’d been swept away by someone senior at ITV. “But in a couple of years she is going to be big, mark my words. You’ll be glad I introduced you.”

After chatting and drinking with Bianca for a while, Sharon bumped into Chad Michaels, who led her away to a small booth in the bar for a chat. It was nice- Chad really did seem to like Sharon, and so Willam was comfortable at that moment leaving them alone with Jinkx and Alaska as Courtney kept begging Willam to come pee with her.

She supposed that was the turning point of the evening; having a drunk Courtney clinging to Willam’s waist in the middle of the bathroom and telling her how much she loved her and how beautiful she was only made Willam’s heart swell and break at the same time. Having no way of knowing if Courtney was sincere or not hurt her more than she’d care to admit. So Willam did what any other drunk girl would do in that situation and hugged her back, and told her the exact same things except she meant every word, the alcohol only making the truth flow more freely.

They hadn’t kissed, although Willam had wanted to. She’d never admit that out loud, though.

When they’d got back from the toilet, they’d found Alaska on her own at the booth with no Jinkx, no Chad, and no Sharon.

“Chad took Sharon to the roulette tables- I thought I shouldn’t say anything because it was Chad!” Alaska explained, as Willam politely asked her how the fuck she’d managed to lose everyone. Jinkx had apparently gone to the bar to get a glass of water for Sharon.

“How many drinks has she had altogether?!” Willam had exclaimed. Alaska muttered a number with a “teen” on the end. Willam almost threw up.

“Fuck me gently. Right, follow me,” she exhaled noisily, storming through the crowd in the direction of the roulette tables with Courtney and Alaska following after her. In the midst of the madness, Willam whipped her head round and turned to Alaska. “How the fuck was this allowed to happen?!”

“I didn’t want to say anything! Not with Chad there,” Alaska hissed, as Courtney grabbed a champagne flute from a waiter on her way past. Willam had to admire her method of coping. As she scanned the room, her eyes suddenly came to rest on one corner- Sharon laughing and clinging to the arm of a young-looking Asian girl with flowing dark hair, high cheekbones and dressed in a red and black gown that clung to her curves. Willam stopped dead.

“Shit,” Courtney whispered. “That’s Kimora Blac.” 

Willam instantly broke out into a cold sweat. Kimora’s face was amused, in the same way someone would watch with amusement as a monkey flung its own faeces around in its zoo enclosure. Swallowing her fear, Willam crossed the room and approached the two.

“Miss Blac, it’s lovely to meet you,” she cut into the conversation, Sharon turning around and beaming a smile at her.

“Willam!” Sharon cried, flinging her arms around her and filling Willam’s nose with the scent of alcohol. “Kimora, this is Willam, one of my lovely advisors. Me and Willam used to go to university together, we were the best of friends!”

Willam cringed and attempted to peel her boss off of her shoulders. Watching Kimora’s amused smirk, she was filled with horror at the thought of what else Sharon had told her in the short time.

“Sorry if Sharon’s said anything to offend you, Miss Blac,” Alaska cut in, her voice apologetic. Kimora simply laughed, waving her hands dismissively.

“Are you kidding? She’s great. I love her. Sharon’s said I can write an article about her,” she smiled sweetly, Willam honestly unable to tell if Kimora had sinister or good intentions. Fuck being drunk.

“It’s going to be GREAT. I’m going to be a STAR,” Sharon smiled, turning to cling to the young journalist once again. Instead, Alaska diverted her into her own arms, Sharon flopping over slightly as if she was a human slinky.

“Well, it’s been lovely meeting you Miss Blac but you know what it’s like at these events. Lots of people to see!” Willam smiled through gritted teeth, wanting to grab one of the silver drinks trays from a passing waiter and just knock Sharon unconscious with it. Then again, if Willam thought about it, the state Sharon was in really wasn’t that far off unconsciousness. Kimora nodded, understanding. Or fake understanding. Willam couldn’t tell which. Fuck, it was so inconvenient being drunk at this point in time.

“Of course! I get it. I’ll maybe head to the auction, see if I can get someone cute to win me something cuter,” Kimora smiled, Willam suddenly genuinely worried for whichever man she decided to latch herself onto. “Bye, Sharon! It was so lovely to meet you!”

The three didn’t even wait to see which direction Kimora walked away in before they whisked Sharon off back to the booths. The entire way back Sharon was rambling on about roulette, and Buzzfeed, and some vase she wanted to win at the auction.

“You’re not going anywhere near that auction, so you can shut that idea down right now,” Willam scolded her, suddenly feeling more like a mother than ever. Finally reaching the booths and practically fainting into her seat, Willam allowed herself a deep sigh of relief at the fact that they had Sharon back under control, even if she was currently behaving like a toddler stuck in the body of a grown woman.

“I need a drink after that,” Courtney said, completely deadpan. Alaska and Sharon looked at each other, then burst out laughing. Willam rolled her eyes, but secretly found Courtney’s quip just a little bit funny.

“I’m going to find Jinkx. Think she’ll probably still be at the bar judging by the queue,” Willam sighed, thinking that if she could just glug down a couple of glasses of water then perhaps she’d be able to sober up a little.

Elbowing her way to the front of the huge crowd in front of the bar, Willam was soon able to find Jinkx standing right at the front of the bar, the bored look on her face indicating that she still hadn’t been served.

“This is like a fucking zombie apocalypse,” Willam said by way of a greeting as she finally reached her colleague. Jinkx rolled her eyes and gestured in front of her.

“Fifteen bloody minutes I’ve been standing here, and nobody’s even acknowledged me. This is exactly why I never go to bars,” she sighed bitterly, ending her sentence with a pointed look at one of only two bartenders who rushed past her.

Willam indulged Jinkx in a small laugh. Thinking about it, she’d never really gelled much with the senior press officer, and she supposed that this was the first time they’d ever had a conversation just the two of them. She supposed there must have been a reason why she and Alaska got on so well. No sooner could she think any more about it than a bartender approached her.

“What’ll it be, ma’am?”

Willam looked at Jinkx in disbelief, who started laughing incredulously. “Excuse me, dickhead?! My friend has been standing here for over fifteen minutes and not even got a second glance, but as soon as a cute blonde strolls up she instantly gets attention?”

The bartender looked suitably shamed as Jinkx’s laughter continued. Willam bristled as she asked him for a jug of tap water and five glasses.

“Sorry about that idiot, Jinkx,” Willam rolled her eyes, receiving a shrug from the latter.

“Willam, it’s okay. I am perfectly at peace with this MILF aesthetic I’ve managed to cultivate. I’m just glad you showed up when you did or I’d probably have returned to you all having aged about 50 years.”

Laughing, Willam looked fondly at her co-worker. “You know, we’ve never really spent time together before but you’re a really cool person, Jinkx.”

Jinkx raised a single eyebrow.

“Don’t even start with the emotional drunk chat, you big…” she seemed to struggle for an insult for a while until she looked across at some man’s martini glass. “…olive.”

As Willam laughed, she became aware of a commotion behind her. Turning around, she saw Bianca elbowing through the crowds, stopping when she saw Jinkx and Willam.

“Christ, what does a lady have to do to get a drink around here, shag a bottle of wine?!” she greeted them, causing Jinkx to wince a little in distaste. As the bartender thudded a jug and five glasses down in front of the distracted Willam, Bianca gave her a concerned look. “What’s with all the water? Are you a fucking fish?”

“No, it’s just for…um. Well, Sharon could use some, put it that way,” Willam shrugged, turning to leave. Bianca stopped her in her tracks.

“Is Sharon fucked? Don’t tell me she’s fucked or I’ll kill you.”

Willam pulled a pained expression. “You’re not really selling it to me, Bianca.”

Bianca’s face darkened. “This isn’t the time for jokes, this is fucking serious! How many people has she spoken to in her state?!”

Willam looked to the floor. “Kimora Blac, Chad Michaels-”

“CHAD FUCKING-” Bianca yelled in disbelief, then realised she’d drawn them some attention and lowered her voice. “Chad Michaels?! She might as well have just vomited on the PM’s shoes! What the fuck must Chad have thought?!”

“In Sharon’s defence, Bianca, Chad was pretty merry herself and seemed quite happy to chat away to her,” Jinkx spoke up, calmly pouring herself a glass of water. Bianca snorted derisively.

“Christmas is merry, Jinkx. Merry and fucked are at two opposite ends of the fucking scale,” Bianca hissed at her. Just then, Bianca’s elbow was suddenly jolted by a young Asian woman stepping in front of her. Willam recognised her as Gia Gunn, one of the journalists from the Daily Mail.

“Um, Gia? There’s a queue here. I’m fucking parched,” Bianca snapped at her. It was no secret that the two had bad blood from way before the days of Darienne, but Willam had never known or indeed asked where it had stemmed from. Gia turned and gave Bianca a placid smile.

“Oh, hello Bianca. Wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you,” she raised her eyebrows and flipped some of her long, straight dark hair over her shoulder.

“Well it’d be a pleasure to see you fucking dead, but here we are,” Bianca snapped, Willam a little taken aback at just how little time she had for the journalist. Gia simply shrugged at her in response.

“I’d have thought you would have had a lot of running about to do instead of just standing there hurling insults at me, Bianca.”

Bianca screwed her face up. “Running about, what, what the fuck does that mean? I work for the government, not the fucking Olympics.”

Gia blinked once at her as if she was talking to a toddler. “Well, I just thought that since Phi Phi is announcing this new policy that she’ll be trying to get enforced tomorrow, you’d be a little worried.”

Bianca stopped, looking once at Willam and Jinkx. Willam felt as if she was frozen solid. So Phi Phi hadn’t been bluffing- and there was something they clearly didn’t know about. Bianca’s face was grave. Gia gave a little laugh.

“Gosh, Bianca, don’t tell me you’re out of the loop? The privatisation of immigration? I feel like you’d want to brief at least some of your MPs about it.”

Willam felt as if she could crash through the floor at any moment. Her mind was racing, and so many thoughts were colliding with each other that she wasn’t really sure what to think first. She looked to Jinkx in a panic, but she was just standing looking at Bianca, who was looking at Gia blankly. Gia looked slightly freaked out by the reaction.

“No, no…she’s not announcing that. She can’t be announcing that. Who told you this?” Bianca finally said, shaking her head. Willam could see her pulse throbbing at her neck, and with a sinking heart she could already tell that the night was about to take another turn for the worst.

Gia sighed and inspected her nails. “We got told by Roberta from the opposition press office that Phi Phi was calling a press conference tomorrow, and this is what it would be about.”

Bianca stood still for a few seconds then suddenly grabbed hold of Willam and Jinkx’s arms and wrenched them through the crowd at the bar, Bianca’s movements being fuelled by what seemed to be pure rage. Once free from the crowd, she stood Jinkx and Willam in front of them and leaned in close.

“How the fuck did I not know about this. One of you start talking.”

“We had no idea that the opposition even knew about this, Bianca. We’re as shocked as you are,” Jinkx said quickly, her face somewhat blanched.

“I’m shocked?! The opposition have got hold of the Prime Minister’s fucking legacy and are announcing it tomorrow, and I’m shocked?! I’m not shocked, I’m fucking livid!” Bianca said, in a voice that only just fell below speaking volume. It was the sort of pitch that made your blood run cold, the tone of voice that Willam imagined a killer would speak in. 

“Bianca none of us have any idea about how it got out! None of us have said a thing to anyone!” Willam insisted, determined for Bianca’s flamethrower of anger to be directed away from her. Bianca stood still, her brow completely furrowed. Then suddenly she seemed to have a moment of realisation.

“Sharon.”

Willam’s eyes grew wide. “No. No, no, no, no, no.”

“Well who the fuck else could it be?! You both heard her this morning, she said herself she’d do anything for it not to go ahead!” Bianca yelled, this time not caring about the glances she drew. “Where is she?”

Willam sighed and pointed to the corner booth. “She’s in that booth, but Bianca-”

Bianca stood for a second, seemingly to gather her thoughts. She looked at Willam, then at Jinkx, then at Willam again, attempting to try and make some sense of the situation. Turning her attention back to Jinkx, she finally spoke.

“You are fucking useless to me,” she told her, before grabbing Willam once more and storming over to Sharon’s table. Willam could hear Courtney drunkenly babbling before they even arrived. As they approached her table, Bianca cut Courtney off.

“Hey. Human halogen lightbulb. Was it you?” Bianca asked Sharon, her gaze like a knife through Sharon’s unsuspecting, drunk gaze.

“Bianca…what? Was what me?”

Bianca swallowed very deliberately, her anger appearing to simmer under her skin. “I know that you gave the opposition the PM’s legacy. Now…tell me you did it.”

Sharon’s jaw dropped open, clearly completely confused. Willam couldn’t think of a worse time to confront her.

“Bianca, I really don’t-”

“Answer the damn question! Was it you?!” Bianca kept her voice low but sinister, leaving Sharon just as confused as before.

“I never…I never told the opposition anything, I don’t understand what’s going-”

Bianca leant on the table with her hands, leaning into the three girls at the table whose faces were all as frightened and shocked as Willam’s must have been. “What’s going on is that the opposition have the Prime Minister’s legacy. They’ve stolen it, somehow, and Phi Phi is announcing it as a policy for her party tomorrow at a press conference.”

Sharon’s face went whiter than it usually was. “That’s impossible, they can’t know about that.”

“Don’t play this card with me, Sharon, you’ve leaked this to them and that’s the whole reason we’re in this mess!”

“How dare you? How dare you accuse me of something I’ve not done?” Sharon half-slurred, half-shouted, rising from her seat a little until Alaska put a hand on her thigh and pushed her back down. “I fight things I oppose with words, Bianca, you of all people should know that!”

“Oh yeah, in this case the words used were clearly, ‘Here Phi Phi, take this policy that I fucking hate and don’t want to have to support’!”

Willam tuned out of the argument, her mind too full to focus on anything. She didn’t believe Sharon had anything to do with the leak at all, but she really struggled to think of who else it could have been. The only people who would know where it came from would be members of the opposition, and the only currency their party could use with them was really either bribery or blackmail. Willam found herself glazing over as she scanned the bar. All of a sudden, her eyes snapped back into focus as she caught a glimpse of a blue and green patterned gown and a flash of pink gripping each other’s hands tightly and disappearing through a door just off to the side of the bar. Willam’s mind raced until suddenly all thoughts collided at once. It seemed pretty clear to her what was happening, and she hoped to God she was right and that it wasn’t just the alcohol that was clouding her mind.

“Guys,” Willam cut in, making sure her voice was able to soar over Bianca and Sharon’s argument without being overly loud. “I think I’ve got an idea. Just…wait. And try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

Without waiting to hear or see any of their reactions, Willam sped off in the direction she’d seen the two girls head towards. The alcohol was making her feel funny, as if she was able to walk a lot faster than she would be able to normally. Crowds seemed to part for her as she headed to the small door to one side of the bar, her heels clicking erratically against the marble floor. She stopped when she reached the heavy wooden door the girls had gone through. A small, brass sign read “Employees Only”. Well, that was clearly bullshit.

Pressing her ear against the door, Willam waited, reaching into her clutch bag and pulling out her phone as she did so, swiping onto her camera and making sure it was set up perfectly. Behind the door she could hear muffled sounds, then a sort of raised moan. Willam took that as her starting pistol and barged through the door, keeping her finger held on the shutter to take a burst shot.

She couldn’t have failed to get the photos she’d wanted. Standing just at the side of a small pantry were just the two people she’d expected. Detox was pressed against the wall, now completely flat against it in shock, whilst Roxxxy, who had previously been pressing against Detox and kissing her neck, had suddenly jumped away. The only evidence that they’d done anything was Roxxxy’s smeared lipstick, a flush of pink against Detox’s neck, and their crumpled gowns. It was, admittedly, pretty damning evidence, but not as damning as the photos Willam currently had on her phone.

“Willam, what…what the fuck?” Roxxxy spoke first, backing away from Detox that little bit more. Her tone was intended to be threatening, Willam could tell that, but instead all that came out was pure fear. Detox was completely paralysed and had turned white as a sheet.

Willam had frightened them both.

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble. Well, not a massive amount,” Willam began coolly, trying to disconnect herself from the whole situation. “I don’t know the whole story, clearly, but it’s obvious that you two are trying to keep whatever this whole thing is on the down low. Bringing a fake date, sneaking off here…I get it. So I’m not going to tell Phi Phi, or Bianca, or the media, about whatever you two are trying to cover up.”

Willam left a deliberate pause. She’d expected some sort of reply from one of the two girls in front of her, but neither one of them spoke. As Willam saw Roxxxy’s hand shaking, she tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that twisted her stomach.

“As long as you tell me everything you know about the new policy your party is dropping tomorrow,” she finished. Detox finally moved, bringing both hands to her cheeks and dragging them down.

“Willam, I swear, we had nothing to do with it,” Roxxxy said, her voice shaking.

“You’re Phi Phi’s damn advisors, how the fuck could you have no involvement in it?” Willam scoffed, suddenly resentful of Roxxxy’s ignorance.

“It’s true, Willam,” Detox stammered, staring straight at a spot on the floor, now back to standing like a statue. “Phi Phi floated the idea of the policy this afternoon and told us Bob had been contacted with it from someone senior within the party. It had come from a party think tank that had taken place earlier in the day. I swear, Willam, that’s all we know.”

Willam stood for a second and tried to gather her thoughts. None of this seemed to make sense.

“You’re lying,” Willam said bluntly. She didn’t actually think they were, but she hoped it would maybe get a little bit more information from them. What she didn’t expect was Roxxxy’s breathing becoming shallower. She took two quick steps forward as if she was about to take Willam’s hand, but she didn’t. Instead, she stopped.

“Willam, pl…please,” Roxxxy began. Willam could swear she saw tears in her eyes. “We’re telling the truth. We’ll even help you find out anything else. Just, please…don’t. Don’t tell anyone.”

Willam felt a little at a loss. Blackmail and intimidation was a lot less fun as Bianca made it seem. Roxxxy was still standing in front of her, her face pleading, whereas Detox was still against the wall, looking broken. She felt the shame rip at her stomach a little.

“Detox’s Dad, he’d-” Roxxxy began, before she was cut off suddenly by a choked sort of cry from Detox, indicating that she’d perhaps said too much. Looking at the two desperate girls in front of her, Willam heaved a sigh.

“I won’t send the pictures to anyone,” Willam said, Roxxxy letting out a huge breath she’d clearly been holding. “But you guys need to make sure this announcement doesn’t happen. Or if it does, that it’s not concerning this policy. Your whole party needs to forget this policy, right?”

“That’s impos-”

“We’ll make it happen, Willam. Don’t worry. Just don’t…don’t do anything with those pictures. Please,” Detox interrupted Roxxxy, her face still ashen but her body language not as bereft of hope as it had been.

Willam awkwardly shuffled on the spot and replaced her phone in her clutch bag. “Well then. Yeah. Make it happen.”

With that, she turned and left the small pantry, walking back to the booth much slower than she had been earlier, with a lot less adrenalin powering her on. The last few minutes had left a sour taste in her mouth. She couldn’t shake the image of Roxxxy’s shaking hands and voice, and Detox’s ashen face as if she’d been informed of a death. Willam, after all, knew all too well the crippling fear of not yet being out, the fear of judgement or rejection. Absent-mindedly getting her phone back out and unlocking it, the first picture that came up was the picture of Detox and Roxxxy kissing, Willam having not exited out of it before. Looking at it again, she noticed how Roxxxy had an arm around Detox’s waist, almost protectively, and where she had Detox pinned against the wall she hadn’t been grabbing her wrist but holding her hand. Willam began to feel she’d made a mistake.

But looking over at the booth as she approached it, she saw Bianca sitting with a face like thunder, glaring at Sharon who was now visibly upset. If she squinted she could see Alaska holding her hand under the table. Courtney looked sheepish and was drinking from another flute of champagne, and Jinkx had managed to find them all and was texting somebody, presumably trying to get intel on the whole mess. Suddenly remembering how horrible Detox and Roxxxy had been to Alaska, what they’d said about her and the rumours they’d made up, Willam felt a flame under her heart. It wasn’t her damn fault that Detox and Roxxxy couldn’t be more careful with their relationship, or whatever the fuck it was that they were doing. They both knew how this worked, and Willam was certain that if one of them had caught Sharon and Alaska together they would have undoubtedly used it for their own personal gain. They belonged to Phi Phi O’Hara’s party and that party was sly, underhand and played dirty. Why the fuck should Willam be the one to show mercy all of a sudden?

Confidence reinstated that she was doing the right thing, Willam walked briskly over to the booth. All five heads shot up to look at her. Willam felt suddenly tired.

“They won’t announce tomorrow. Their press conference might still go ahead but I’ve been told that it won’t be about the legacy. Just…don’t ask me how I did it.”

Courtney beamed up at her, the rest of the faces at the table simply relieved. Bianca decided to ignore her last sentence.

“Who the fuck told you this? What did they say?”

Willam went to rub her eyes, then remembered the heavy eyeliner she’d applied hours earlier. “Phi Phi’s advisors. They said that they didn’t have a clue about how Phi got hold of the policy, only that it had come from a party think tank and had been gifted to them. Something weird is going on, but I don’t think it involves Detox and Roxxxy. I think it’s deeper than that, and it could get nasty.”

Bianca sighed, rubbing at her face as she stood and left the booth.

“Well, that’s my night over. I need to get home and try to get to the bottom of this fucking mess. Sharon,” she snapped, the wearied Minister lifting her head to face her. “I want to speak to you on Monday about this. The opposition found out somehow, and until I find someone to blame otherwise, I’m holding you entirely responsible.”

As Sharon gave a single weary nod of resignation, Bianca left the five with a heavy sigh. Willam could’ve sighed too. All clearly wasn’t well, and there was something sinister going on, but at least whatever disaster that could have occurred within the next 24 hours had been prevented. Flopping down onto the seat beside Courtney, she felt a little shocked as Courtney’s arm slid around her waist.

“You’re honestly so fucking good at everything, Will,” she slurred, giving her an unexpected kiss on the cheek.

After everything that had happened in the past hour, Willam felt as if this was the thing that would kill her.

“Yeah, thanks Willam,” Sharon said without much enthusiasm. “Okay guys, I think I’ll maybe just head home.”

Willam made a face. She didn’t want Sharon’s night to be ruined by what had happened. “Come on, Sharon, you’ve got to stay. Just…have fun. I don’t care anymore, see, I’ve not got my bossy political advisor hat on anymore. In all honesty I’ve been fucked for a good couple of hours now. Go bid on the bollocking vase, go on.”

Sharon seemed as if she wasn’t able to hold back a small smile. She looked at Alaska, seemingly seeking approval.

“Do you want to stay?” she asked her, Willam hoping that Jinkx wouldn’t catch on to the implication and knowing that Courtney was too drunk to care. Alaska smiled and nodded at her girlfriend, and this seemed to be all the affirmation Sharon needed.

“Okay, fuck yes. Let’s get me another champagne and win me a fucking vase,” she slapped the table, making to leave the booth. As Willam turned to get up, Courtney threw another arm over her, stopping her from leaving.

“I want to get cheesy chips,” she whined, Willam laughing at the obvious drunk munchies that were taking hold. “Can we go get cheesy chips?”

Willam blinked at Courtney, her face hopeful and expectant. She could have made some sarcastic comment about the vegan properties of chips and cheese, but something about Courtney’s expression made her decide against it. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Opening her mouth, Willam made to ask the others if they wanted to come. “Guys, do you-”

“Nooooo,” Courtney immediately placed a single finger over Willam’s lips, messily shushing her. “Just us. On our own.”

Willam thought her heart was about to break her ribcage with the intensity with which it was thudding. She turned to look at Courtney again. Had her pupils always been blown like that?

“Okay,” Willam said, grabbing her clutch bag from the table. As Alaska and Sharon drifted away, Jinkx got up decisively.

“Well, that’s me for the evening. I’m going home to shove on Midsomer Murders and eat that last chocolate éclair I’ve got in my fridge,” she smiled wryly at Willam, then lowered her voice as she looked pointedly at Courtney. “For God’s sake, make sure she gets home okay.”

As Jinkx wandered off, Courtney threaded her arm through Willam’s and took her hand, squeezing it a couple of times.

All she had to do was find a chippy near Park Lane and get Courtney home to bed. Willam concluded that the evening couldn’t get much more chaotic if it had been a series of tasks set by God.

***

Willam trudged over the doorway of Courtney’s flat as Courtney herself crashed through the door. She was completely exhausted. After quickly establishing that they wouldn’t find a chippy anywhere near Park Lane, Willam had hailed them a cab, then hailed two more after the first wouldn’t take Courtney anywhere in case she vomited all over the taxi floor. But as the old saying goes, it was third time lucky, and after a solid 15 minutes of Willam trying desperately to flag down a taxi and Courtney whining about how hungry she was and how sore her feet were, they managed to get a taxi back to Brixton. There, they’d stopped off on Coldharbour Lane and finally managed to track down a place where they could buy cheesy chips, Courtney discarding her heels underneath her arm and eating them on the short walk back to her flat. Willam did have to listen to her moan about the fact that these weren’t proper cheesy chips, and that proper cheesy chips were made with fat chips swimming in grease, with layered cheese.

Willam had looked at Courtney affectionately for the millionth time on the walk home, her heart feeling like it was about to burst. “Court, how the fuck are they expected to layer the cheese?”

Courtney had spoken through a mouthful of masticated chips and cheese as she spoke, putting huge emphasis on certain words every so often in the way that drunk people often do. “No! It’s actually very easy. They put one layer of chips on one side of the carton and chips on the other side of the carton, then put cheese on the top of one of the sides, close the carton over, open it up again, put the cheese on top…boom. Layered cheese. Giuliano’s does it.”

Willam had been spending the entire journey back to Courtney’s flat feeling like she was on the verge of a heart attack, if she was totally honest. That sort of electric, magical feeling was back in the air as snow clouds hung heavy in the dark sky and gave the streetlamp-orange glowing streets a sort of buzz. She felt happy just being together with Courtney, being silly and drunk and spending time with her without really doing anything at all. For a moment, Willam felt that maybe this was all she needed- just to be around Courtney. She was still happy with her, and not admitting her feelings to her only saved from any potential heartbreak, rejection and embarrassment. Maybe Willam could live with just being friends.

And then Courtney had threaded her arm through Willam’s again, her body warm beside her, and Willam had thought maybe not.

Now that they were back at Courtney’s flat, Willam felt that all too nervous feeling creep over her again, like a tidal wave waiting to crash against the shore. As Courtney dumped her heels on the ground and the empty styrofoam carton on her hall table, Willam lingered at the doorway.

“Okay, well. I should probably get home.”

Courtney turned and pouted, looking like a lost puppy. “No, Will! You need to stay and make sure I don’t choke on my own tongue in my sleep.”

Willam snorted a laugh. “That’s not a thing, Court.”

“It is so! Well…it might be choking on vomit. Vomit or tongue. Can’t remember.”

“Two really attractive words.”

“You’re an attractive word,” Courtney said, leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom and threatening to flop over. “Please? Just…look after me a bit more?”

Willam sighed, her hand still on the handle of Courtney’s front door.

_If God doesn’t hate gay people then he’s certainly got a personal fucking vendetta against me._

“Fine,” Willam threw her hands up, kicking her heels off and making her way down the hall to where Courtney stood. Her face lighting up in delight, Courtney took Willam’s hand, shuffling into her bedroom and not bothering to turn the lights on. Willam attempted to scan her surroundings in the darkness. A double bed sat taking up most of the space in the room, while a set of wardrobes (possibly mirrored) and a chest of drawers sat opposite it. There was a big bookcase to one side of the bed, and a bedside table and a window on the other. Clothes lay carpeting the floor.

Courtney still didn’t let go of Willam’s hand when she fell down onto the bed, pulling Willam down with her. She landed with the breath knocked out of her slightly, laying half on top of her, half at her side. Courtney naturally thought this was the funniest thing in the world. Willam tried to clamber off her but wasn’t completely successful, as Courtney threw both her arms round her waist. The action stopped Willam dead for a second. Looking down at Courtney, she could see that her eyes were slightly glazed and she still had a big, goofy smile on her face. Time seemed to stand still, the only thing moving being Willam’s pulse racing under her skin.

“You’re so great, Willam,” Courtney sighed, looking up at her and smiling. Willam didn’t really know what to reply.

“You’re great,” she ended up saying, trying once again to roll onto her side but Courtney’s arms wouldn’t let her, and dear Christ, how had she found herself in this position?

Courtney seemed to pause for a second, the smile still on her face as she somehow pulled Willam closer to her. “No, honestly. You’re so great.”

And then Willam completely froze as Courtney pushed up a little bit and kissed her once, her lips a little messy against Willam’s own. Pulling away, the smile was back on Courtney’s face, giggling as she looked at Willam’s clearly shocked face. Willam’s mind was just blank. She had no idea what the fuck was going on, and her nerves were now in overdrive as she realised she didn’t know what to say or do. Still smiling like an idiot, Courtney solved the problem by pulling Willam down on top of her and meeting her lips again, this time lingering a little bit more, and with all of the air being knocked out of Willam’s lungs she realised that they were actually, properly kissing. Still completely confused as to whatever this was, Willam pulled away.

“Court,” she whispered, although she wasn’t really sure why. “Don’t do this because you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m doing this because I want to. The fact I’m drunk is just a happy coincidence,” she slurred, her arms still firmly around Willam’s waist. Then, her eyes suddenly became wide. “How come, do you want to stop?”

Willam took one look at Courtney’s beautiful, shocked face and finally registered that what was happening was actually happening, and she wasn’t dreaming it, and it wasn’t a mistake. “Fuck no.”

With that, Courtney crashed their lips together again and they were kissing again, slow and deep and everything that Willam had wanted for the longest time. Courtney tasted almost entirely of champagne, and Willam could still smell her perfume from earlier, and it only made her kiss her deeper, moving a hand up to tangle in Courtney’s blonde curls. Her heart was beating so fast and their bodies were pressed so close together that Willam was sure Courtney would feel how fast her heart was racing. Hearing Courtney sigh a little against her lips, Willam felt as if she was stuck in an alternate reality.

This couldn’t be happening. And yet, it was. 

They could have been kissing for hours or minutes, or perhaps seconds. Time had become an alien concept to Willam. But the first sign of change was Courtney pushing her hips up an inch from the bed, moaning a little and trailing a hand up Willam’s thigh. With every iota of willpower that she possessed, Willam pulled away from Courtney and sat up, straddling her.

“Court, you’re drunk, girl.”

Courtney pouted, bringing one hand up to cup Willam’s jaw. “Yeah, but so are you.”

Now that Courtney pointed it out, Willam noticed that the amount of adrenaline that was currently running through her veins had rendered her almost completely sober. “I think it’s kind of wearing off a bit. Come on, I’m not doing anything with you when you’re in this state.”

“But I want to,” Courtney sighed, stroking Willam’s cheek. Willam smiled lazily at her.

“Not tonight, girl,” she said, not without a hint of regret.

“Well, next time then,” Courtney said contentedly, smiling up at her. Willam’s heart almost flipped over. She hadn’t really thought to think past this moment, but now she was wondering what the future held in regards to whatever this was. Trying to push the future out of her mind, she just smiled back at Courtney, touching her cheek before rolling off of her and on to the other side of the bed.

“Well, I’ll be going, then-”

Courtney shot her a glare. “Willam! Come on, you have to stay. I want to kiss you again when I wake up and I’m sober.”

Willam felt faint at the sheer amount of events that had happened over the course of the evening. She hesitated for a second as she thought her options over, then decided that she’d been responsible enough for one evening and that perhaps she was entitled to one poor decision.

“Okay. I’ll stay,” she paused. “Have you got pyjamas?”

Courtney leaned over to her bedside table, reaching into a drawer and pulling out two colossal t-shirts. Willam grabbed one gratefully and began to pull the zip down at the back of her dress. She tried not to look as Courtney got changed. The night had given her enough heart murmurs for one evening.

Leaving herself in just her underwear, she pulled the huge shirt over her head and climbed into bed with the other blonde. Turning on her side, she was surprised that Courtney shuffled back into her arms, reaching behind and wrapping them around her so that Willam held her in a cuddle.

Sighing and still trying to comprehend the way the night had progressed, Willam suddenly heard a little gasp from Courtney.

“Willam,” she pointed to the window. “Snow.”

Willam gave Courtney a little squeeze and watched as the gentle white flakes drifted from the sky, making to envelop the city in white and make it seem as if it was new.

They watched the snow fall until they fell asleep.


End file.
